The Gargoyles Saga - Season One
by Tigris Euphrates
Summary: TGS really left me in the gutter when I worked for them, but nevertheless - here are the two chapters I did for them.
1. Fallout, Part One

Gargoyles-- Fallout part 1

**FALLOUT**

**_PART ONE_**

Written By, Kathy Pogge, Thomas F. Revor Jr. and Tigris Euphrates.

*CLICK* 

"This just in at the WVRN newsroom! An explosion rocks downtown Manhattan! More details as we get them!" 

*CRACKLE* *CLICK* 

"This is Jonathan Wills for WVRN here at the site of the explosion at the Manhattan 23rd police precinct. This once majestic station, topped by its gothic-style clock tower, is now in ruins. Earlier this night, a terrorist attack destroyed the clock tower, leaving over 30 officers injured but, thankfully, no fatalities. Witnesses claim to have seen a plume of flame streaking towards the tower right before the explosion. No groups have claimed responsibility for this act at this time, but an amateur video shows that the urban myth of gargoyles is in fact very real. You can clearly see the monstrous figures leaving the scene shortly after the explosion. Travis, do we have that tape ready...?" 

*CRACKLE* *CLICK* 

"This is Nicole St. John for WVRN. Two people have been arrested in the terrorist attack on the 23rd police precinct. They are listed as Police Detective Jason Conover, alias Jason Canmore, age 32, and his sister Robyn Canmore, age 28. Still at large is their brother Jon, alias WVRN reporter Jon Carter, age 25. Police have yet to determine the role that the mysterious gargoyles played in this tragedy; in fact, they have yet to acknowledge the existence of these creatures. 

"This incident strikes close to home for this reporter as we've worked side by side with Jon for some time. Canmore is approximately 5 foot 9 inches tall and approximately 175 pounds with blond hair. He is to be considered armed and dangerous. If you see him..." 

*CRACKLE* *CLICK* 

***** 

Elisa set her copy of the New York Sentinel aside to check her watch. The smell of burgers and fries filled the coffee shop and reminded her how long it had been since she had her last meal. She looked out the windows. Still seeing no sign of her father, she signaled to the waitress for another cup of coffee, picked up her paper and continued reading the front page. At least the Sentinel seemed to be giving Goliath and the clan a fair shake. 

The waitress returned a moment later and refilled her coffee. Elisa thanked the woman and just stared at the paper. She was dead tired after the last couple of days and it didn't look like things were going to settle down any time soon. There was a small television behind the counter. Several of the patrons began to gather as the soap opera was interrupted with another "Gargoyle News Update." She sighed and dumped three sugars in her mug, figuring she was going to need the energy to deal with the new day. 

The anchor, Travis Marshall, was as polished as ever. Straining to hear over the sparse crowd of early morning patrons, Marshall finished his comments. The scene cut over to a young, blond and willowy woman who was standing slightly apart from the other reporters in front of the mayor's office. She looked like she had been up for days, but was trying to put across a pulled-together look. She'd seen a network anchorman do something similar in Sarejevo once, but then heard later from a friend who worked on the camera crew that he'd actually been carefully made up to appear both disheveled and professional. From what she heard about St. John, Elisa wouldn't put it past her to try something like that. She put aside her cynical analysis and listened to the report. 

"Thanks, Travis. This is Nicole St. John in front of City Hall. We are waiting for Jose Hablar, New York City Chief of Staff. After a rather profound silence, City Hall is finally making a statement about the 23rd Precinct station bombing, the attack on the St. Damian Cathedral, and the long awaited confirmation about the gargoyles. Long believed to be just another urban myth, the fact that these monsters are real has the usually unflappable New York citizens scared. 

"Over the past year, stories of gargoyle attacks have been reported and become more frequent in the past months, but much like the 'alligator in the sewers', have largely been ignored by the police. City officials have been promising an official statement since this horror began, but have not yet released any information." 

Elisa turned back to study her paper again; the contrast between the back-to-basics newspaper and the biased television appeared starker than ever. Finishing the article, she set the paper aside and picked up the menu. After a moment, she decided on the half-pound green chili cheeseburger and onion rings just as she caught sight of her father pushing past the crowd of TV watchers and waved him over. 

"Dad! Over here!" She stood and briefly embraced him before calling for the waitress again. 

The waitress ("Dolly," Elisa noticed mechanically) set a second mug down in front of Peter Maza and refilled Elisa's cup before asking if they were ready to order. Elisa rattled off her order. Her father told Dolly to make it two. Picking up the coffeepot, she headed back to the kitchen. 

"Does your mother know you still order food like that?" Peter asked his daughter, knowing how strict his wife was about good eating. 

"More importantly," she replied grinning, "does Mom know that _you're_ still ordering food like that? You know what she says about that..." 

"Peter Maza, what do you think you're doing?" he said in a fair impersonation of his wife. "That stuff'll give you a heart attack! Here, have some nice low-fat, low-cholesterol food. You'll live longer." His daughter chorused him as he said "If you die, don't you come running to me!" They both looked at each other and broke up laughing. 

"All right, kiddo," he said, sounding nothing like Edward G. Robinson and wiping away the tears of laughter, "you got me. I won't squeal on you if you don't rat on me, see?" 

"Deal." She smiled at him, but could see the fatigue underneath the cheer. She knew without looking that her father was examining her with a critical eye. She feinted and changed the subject before he could really start in on her. "How is Mom anyway? And Beth? I haven't had heard from either of them recently." 

"Your mother's on another book tour, this time for her _African Tales and Legends_. As for Beth, I got a call from her just last night. She was so excited she almost couldn't get the news out." 

"Really?" Elisa asked, her curiosity peaked. "What has my little sister gotten herself into _this_ time?" 

"She entered the American Ethnology Society's essay contest. She won first prize." 

"Wow! Seems she took after Mom more than either Derek or me. What'd she win?" 

"They're going to publish her essay in their magazine. You'll soon be seeing 'The Relevance of North American Mythology in Today's World' by Beth Maza on a   
newsstand near you." 

"That's wonderful! No wonder Beth was excited. I guess our meeting Coyote in Arizona wasn't a bad thing after all." 

Elisa knew she had blown it as the humor drained from her father's face and a look of concern and worry replaced it. 

"Elisa, when was the last time you got any shut-eye? You look like..." 

"Well, looks like Hablar's finally letting us know what's going on," Elisa said, pointing to the television which was showing the reporters jockeying into position. 

The restaurant suddenly got very quiet as the very dapper Jose Hablar took the podium. Elisa couldn't help but shake her head. She had seen this guy pulled out of bed at three in the morning and he managed to look just as turned out as he did at noon. Today he was clad in a dark gray suit that made him look serious and yet at the same time was cut to guarantee he would win another placement on the 10 best dressed list. 

"Ladies and Gentleman of the Press, Fellow New Yorkers, I want to assure you first of all that we are confident that this most recent terrorist threat is ended. The police force is doing their utmost to ensure the capture of Jon Canmore and eliminate this threat to the safety. New York, once again, is safe. Now, any questions?" 

"Mr. Hablar," A blonde woman in the front demanded, "what is the city's reaction to the existence of the gargoyles?" 

Hablar began to look slightly less unflappable, but still was able to maintain his composure with ease. "The mayor is hard at work formulating a plan to study this Gargoyle situation with the detail that it deserves..." 

Elisa turned her attention back to her father and the cup of coffee that was cooling in front of her. She took a healthy swallow and noticed that the look of concern never left her father's face. 

"Dad, really, I'm fine!" she protested. "I've just been a little busy lately, missed some sleep and a few meals." ~Not to mention falling off a dam, being pulled several miles down river and almost dying,~ she thought to herself. "I'll catch up when things cool down. Promise!" She tried to look reassuring. "Come on Dad, every cop in the city is on alert. We _all_ look like this right now. It's not like you didn't have some times like this before you retired." 

She was saved for the moment from making further protests when Dolly returned with a laden tray and began to distribute burgers and condiments. They spent the next several minutes concentrating on the food in front of them. But Peter continued to watch his daughter with a pensive look on his face. 

"I wanted to talk to you about that," he began tentatively. 

"What? My work habits or your retiring?" Elisa asked around a mouth full of ketchup-soaked onion ring. 

"Both. You know, ever since I went back to help Beth with Xanatos and that Coyote Carving and mended my fences with Dad, I've been thinking. Maybe it's time to go home." He paused a moment. "To Arizona. All of us." 

"What?!" Elisa stopped, stared at her father and slowly put her burger back on her plate. 

"I'm serious about this, Elisa. Maybe it's time to get out of New York. It's always been a challenge living here, but now it's downright dangerous. I want the family safe. I want you safe. Are you really willing to continue to risk your life for these 'friends' of yours?" 

The blood began to roar in Elisa's ears as her father looked at her pleadingly. A small part of her mind thought that perhaps now was not the time to tell her father about recent developments in her romantic life. Another part of her thought that maybe he was right. Maybe a bit of normality was what she needed. She understood that he was concerned for her safety, but knew that she couldn't leave her life here. Even as tired as she was feeling she knew that this had to be settled here and now. 

"Dad, I have a life and responsibilities here. I can't just leave it." She paused. "And what about Derek and Maggie? What about all of those who depend on them? This is their fight too, y'know. One of the things that you taught us was to never run away from a fight." She sighed inwardly as she saw the look on her father's face and realized she'd won. 

"Looks like I taught you too well." He lowered his eyes. "It's just so _frustrating_ knowing that you're going to be right in the middle of this thing and that I can't protect you." He looked straight into her eyes, his pain evident. "I don't care if you're the best marksman in the precinct or if you have Goliath to protect you. You will always be my little girl." 

"Oh, Dad." Elisa clasped her hands around his, giving him a smile she didn't feel. "I wouldn't want it any other way." 

On the TV, Hablar continued to take a beating. The questions were getting more and more speculative. A short balding man from one of the tabloids was asking if all gargoyle type statues were suspects in the recent disturbances, and was it true that the effects of acid rain were being studied, in relation to how these statues had come to life in the first place. The unflappable Hablar finally lost it. He ignored the man's question and announced that the Mayor's Office would reply from now on with written statements only. He left the podium and walked to the safety of the office behind him. Elisa recognized a figure standing in the background: the new Sentinel Police Beat reporter Jerry Pearson, frantically scribbling notes. She wondered what his spin on events would be; the article he had written on the gargoyles was pretty fair. He seemed like a pretty nice guy and his dusky good looks certainly were easy on the eyes. The gargoyles were going to need a friend in the media; maybe getting to know Pearson better wouldn't be a bad idea, she mused. If his opinion could be swayed... 

When she looked back at her father he had composed himself once more. "It will be all right," she soothed. "Somehow everything will be all right." She thought of the brief kiss she had shared with Goliath and hope she wasn't deluding herself. 

They finished their meal in hurried silence. Peter pushed his burger around the plate as Elisa cleared hers. She glanced at her watch and groaned. 

"Dad, I've got to leave now or I'll be late meeting Matt." She pulled cash out of her billfold and signaled the waitress. Peter started to protest, but she snagged the bill and pressed the cash into the woman's hand. She kissed Peter on the forehead quickly and strode out into the dwindling afternoon sun. He watched her carefully checking the street and the pedestrians around her as she disappeared from view. 

Peter was thinking about leaving also, when the anchor cut back in over the last few minutes of the soap opera. The crowd groaned, but like witnesses to a train wreck, they crowded back around the television set. He settled back in the vinyl booth and signaled Dolly for more coffee. The scene on the screen shifted to the nighttime clip of the gargoyles departing the scene at St. Damian's in a black unmarked helicopter. He had a reasonable guess as to where the next feed would be coming from and was rewarded with a view of the Eyrie building and Mr. Owen Burnett. 

"Looks like the lackeys are out in force today," a familiar voice mused cynically. 

Peter looked up startled. "Morgan, you old son of a gun! How have you been?" He was genuinely pleased to see his old friend. But Elisa was right. There wasn't a cop on the force that didn't look like hell, Morgan included. He waved Dolly back over and started a fresh tab. 

Morgan accepted the coffee and apple pie that Dolly brought over with a shadow of his usual cheery smile. ~He must be a regular,~ Peter thought, ~for her to know his habits like this.~ 

He was confirmed two for two when Dolly pulled her order pad out of her apron pocket. "The usual, Officer?" She said it with a familiarity that suggested nightly routine. 

Morgan nodded. "And Dolly, keep the coffee coming. It's going to be a long night." 

Peter had to admit that he was as curious as the rest about what Burnett would say to the press. It seemed that the ties between David Xanatos and his own family was going to get tighter and he was not particularly pleased with the notion. They had gotten a phone call from the man himself a week or so back. He'd never found out what the man wanted, though -- Diane had answered the phone, listened long enough to find out who was on the other side of the line then hung up, with a look that spoke volumes. She had then hounded him to find the little book the phone company had sent out that had instructions on how to block calls from specific phone numbers. 

Morgan's attention had been drawn to the television as well, delaying any possible conversation. He sipped his coffee and focused on the officious blond man behind the microphone. 

"Ladies and Gentleman of the Press, I have a short statement to make." 

He straightened himself a fraction and prepared to speak. He was interrupted by someone in the press corps. "Will you be answering questions after you make your statement?" a baritone voice rumbled. 

Burnett shot a withering gaze at a portly man in the third row. "Doubtful," he replied. "Now if I may be allowed to continue?" 

The press corps settled down like a group of sullen children before their schoolmaster. It was an interesting contrast to the circus that had surrounded City Hall's press flack earlier. The camera closed in on Burnett close enough to see the exquisite tailoring of the man's suit and the glimpse of the red silk power tie. 

"It has been speculated by some of the media agencies that Mr. David Xanatos or employees of Xanatos Industries, Xanacorp, or one of the other subsidiary operations was somehow involved in the escape of the creatures known as gargoyles, during the events of the evening of October 26th. I wish to categorically deny any such involvement. On October 24th, the FAA notified Xanatos Industries of possible mechanical hazard related to a defective rotor housing. This was the same defect that was responsible for the crash that killed several members of the Cyberlink board of directors approximately two months ago. Rather than risk a repeat of that tragedy, all helicopters of the XI-2000 class were taken off-line for a thorough inspection of system and possible repair. Copies of the reports are available to members of the press at their convenience." 

He paused. "Further more, Mr. Xanatos has no personal desire to involve himself with anything that might disturb the tranquility of his home. From all accounts, involvement with these so-called gargoyles sounds as if it would be anything but tranquil. Mr. Xanatos reminds you that he resides with his wife and young son, and that their safety and well being will always be his paramount concern." He looked up from his prepared statement. "That will be all, ladies and gentlemen. Good Afternoon." 

He left the podium without another word and the scene cut abruptly back to the station's newsroom. The cook, however, had apparently heard enough. "Dolly! Find me something that isn't the news or shut that box off. It's upsetting my ulcer!" 

The screen went blank and the counter patrons dispersed back to their respective places. Dolly brought a brimming plate of hot turkey sandwich and mashed potatoes and set it in front of Morgan. He smiled at her gratefully and dug in. 

"Morgan, how often do you see Elisa these days?" Peter tried to ask as casually as he could muster. 

"Checking up on your little girl again, aren't you?" Morgan's words made it sound like Elisa was fifteen again, and Peter wished for a moment that she was. 

He looked away from Morgan's dark features and nodded. "I just worry about her. She's managed to take on some pretty tough customers during the past year or so. She looked..." Words failed him for a moment, and he paused. "Keep an eye on her for me, will you?" 

Morgan shook his head and laughed. The sound was low and musical and only added to Peter's discomfort. "I won't promise anything, but I'll do what I can. One overprotective father to another." 

Peter nodded his thanks. "I owe you one." 

"Take it out of all the ones I owe you," Morgan said as he looked at his watch and donned his cap. "Time to go make the streets safe." He sighed and stared into the last of the dwindling afternoon sunlight. "I can't imagine things getting crazier then they have been, but I never had much imagination. Take care, Peter." He traded a few remarks with Dolly who was now behind the cash register, settled his tab and departed, leaving Peter to his own thoughts. 

***** 

Elisa frowned as she listened to the matter-of-fact tones of Owen Burnett. Despite the assurances she had given her father, she was bone-weary and her patience had frayed to the breaking point. 

"Well, you can tell Xanatos to keep his security system, because I don't need any of _HIS_ help!" 

Owen's tone was infinitely calm as he replied to her protestations. "Mister Xanatos is afraid he must insist in his offer. He still feels a debt of gratitude to a 'mutual friend' for his helping to save young Alexander." Owen droned on, his calm and monotone voice filling Elisa with frustration and anger. "He feels that you are presently in danger, and Mister Xanatos only wishes to help our `mutual friends' by seeing to your safety." 

"Tell him he can save it, and do me the favor of not hurting them any further than he already has!" Elisa erupted. "_HE'S_ the one who created The Pack, _HE'S_ the one who forced them into leaving the castle in the first place... _HE'S_ the one who paid Servarius to..." 

Elisa broke off, the words choking in her throat. The silence on the other end allowed her the momentary hope that Owen might empathize with her. But the moment ended and he began again. "Detective Maza, make any preparations you wish. However, Mister Xanatos plans to have your new safety features ready to install within the week." 

"Can't you get it through your thick skull?!" Elisa yelled into the phone. "I said `NO!'" Without waiting for Owen to say more, Elisa stabbed at the button, and hung up the phone. Leaving the headset on the table instead of back on its cradle, Elisa picked up the keys and got up to leave for work, locking the door behind her. She had no time to sit there and argue with Burnett. She had just meant to dash in to pick up a thing or two after her talk with Dad at the coffee shop, and now it was off to work for the night. 

That is, if you could call chaos "work." 

It was nearly six o'clock by the time she reached the station. The firemen had jammed stakes into the street and strung fencing across them, with police tape wrapped all over it. There was stone debris everywhere. For an idle moment, she wondered if any of the small bits might be pieces of stone gargoyle skin. 

"Aw, come on! You don't understand! There's a reason it was in the safe! You'll dig out the chief's files, but this could be just as important!" As Elisa pulled into a nearby parking spot, she could make out Matt's pleading voice, filtered through all the sounds of the traffic and noise on the street. The fireman he was talking to seemed to shrug at all the complaining, but surrendered to go do what Matt asked him anyway. 

"Bluestone! There's another person on the phone for you about the Gargoyle Task Force!" Chavez's voice floated clearly above the noise. 

Captain Chavez was about, as usual, desperately trying to oversee the crisis of losing her station building. The way she was still limping around made Elisa sure that the doctor had not authorized her mobility. Morgan was here too, hauling boxes. It looked like none of the firemen were allowing anyone inside the building -- probably too dangerous. Water was being sprayed right and left both to put out the small fires that kept cropping up, and to keep the dust down as they tore the place apart. 

How much police work was being done? How many of them were on the beat tonight? 

Elisa threaded her way through wreckage and co-workers, watched her partner pick up a phone, speak briefly and drop the receiver back onto the cradle. He didn't seem happy. 

"Hey, Matt. What's left?" Elisa called out. 

The look on her partner's face spoke volumes and the slight whine in his voice confirmed her instinctive take on the situation. Matt was _not_ a happy camper. 

"I'm really gonna hate this, if this is what I have to go through to get my files, let alone my computer!" He ignored her question utterly, intent on the recovery of his precious paperwork. 

"Well, worry about them later, right now we gotta go talk to Robyn Canmore." 

Matt shrugged, dropped a small pile of papers on a makeshift desk over by the trailers that had been brought in, and walked over by Elisa and her car. 

"Captain letting you back onto the night shift early?" 

Elisa looked away. "What partner do I have during the day? _All_ my partners are nocturnal." She paused and looked about at the wreckage as she controlled her anger long enough to share her news. "I got a call from our 'Lord of the Castle'." 

"Mr. X? What does _he_ want?" 

"He wants to upgrade the security in my apartment, and he 'insists'." 

Matt seemed to be more than a little sleep-deprived himself and not really listening. But he picked up on the word "insists" and raised an eyebrow. One look at Elisa's face, eyes still burning with remembered rage, was all it took to tell him where that conversation had ended up. He abruptly changed the subject to keep her focused on the matters at hand. 

"My news is worse than that. If we're back to working together, then we're both in charge of this 'Gargoyles Task Force'." 

"Ironic, eh?" She surveyed the damage around her and thought about what could happen if the task force ended up in the hands of someone who had self-promotion in mind. She shook her head to clear the thought away and gave Matt a wry smile. "At least we're the good guys. What does the task force do?" 

"Well, the Captain said we first had to ascertain what the clan--" He paused and corrected himself practicing for the press corps briefings to come. "Uh...what the _gargoyles_ are capable of and stop anything like the blast at the clocktower or the old cathedral from happening again." 

"It wasn't their fault!" Elisa protested automatically. "If we could catch Jon Canmore, between him and the testimony Jason's given us, I'm sure we could give the court a good case. It'd give us a chance to shift the focus away from the clan. If only we could do something about Demona..." She cut herself off abruptly as the desk sergeant walked past carrying a box of paperwork. She noted with alarm that it seemed to be smoking slightly. 

Matt leaned against the hood of the car and feigned nonchalance that he didn't really feel. He looked past the damage and watched the last rays of the sun disappear from the cityscape. He nodded his agreement but knew it was an uphill battle. Best to let Elisa know now how hard the climb was going to be. "I gave a statement to the press about the Hunters, and they quoted me on the air as chastising the press for jumping to conclusions about the attack and about being soft on the gargoyles." 

Elisa sighed and frowned as she looked out over the skyline. 

Matt saw the concern that lined his partner's face. He placed his hand on her shoulder. "You know they couldn't stay a secret forever." Beneath his hand, he felt her shoulders droop as the truth of it set in. But that moment of weariness lasted only a moment as she shook off his hand, squared her shoulders and looked him in the eye as he continued. "All I know is that I intend to prove the Hunters destroyed both the clocktower _and_ the cathedral. I need Robyn before I can do that. Jason says she launched the missiles. And I think she flew the ship into the cathedral as well." 

Elisa shook her head. "No, that just doesn't add up. The way Robyn was acting..." She trailed off mentally reviewing the events after her arrival at the church. "I doubt it. More likely it was Jon, he was really... unstable that night." 

Elisa unlocked the car and rolled up the window against the evening chill. She gunned the engine to life and waited to clear the parking lot as one of her coworkers roared out of the parking lot on a Code Three call. As the sirens diminished into the night Matt put a hand to his chin and stared, scowling, out the window. "This city is about to explode, Elisa. Today alone, there have been three attacks on statuary and other pieces of art because some fool thought he saw them move." 

Elisa didn't reply. There were only seven pieces of 'statuary' she cared about at this point. 

"All it's gonna take is one gang to call a person 'gargoyle-lover', and there's gonna be shootings -- even riots." 

Matt's words were striking closer to home than he realized and Elisa shook her head, fresh determination steadying her against the battle ahead. "I'd sort of gotten used to only telling half-truths on my reports, but now what do I do?" 

"Tell them the truth, Elisa. Maybe it's time to let the world know just what has been going on. It'll set the Commissioner's Office on its ear. Not to mention the Daily Tattler.... But it has to be done slowly. This is gonna upset a lot of people." 

"A little truth at a time," Elisa agreed. "And you can forget the Daily Tattler." She knew there was going to be a day soon when she wished they'd crawl under the rock they came from. And she wondered how she should break the news to Goliath. 

***** 

"Even with all the changes going on," Matt thought to himself, "at least this place will always remain consistent." Ryker's Island had been around for... one hundred years? At least it felt that way. Men and women incarcerated in eight by eight cells, serving time for their crimes. They spent their lives pacing like caged animals. But then again, most of them were. He tried to compose himself for their interview with Robyn Canmore, but the atmosphere was getting him down. The atmosphere _always_ got him down. 

He set his shoulders and ran a hand through his short red hair as his partner came out of the Processing room -- a determined, almost angry, look on her face. But who could blame her? 

"God, I hate coming here." She straightened her jacket over her now empty holster and pushed her hair away from her face. 

"Heads or tails, partner?" she asked, pulling a coin out of her pocket. 

Bluestone always dreaded this part. "Tails." 

Elisa flipped the coin off of her thumb, as both watched it flip end over end before she caught it again and looked at it. " Heads. Sorry, partner." 

"Why does it seem like I'm always the `good cop'?" Matt said. 

"Because, Bluestone, you're such a nice guy that if you tried to be the `bad cop', the perps'd probably laugh themselves into submission." Matt chuckled as the walked towards the interview room. 

The guard at the door nodded her head in silent greeting and reverified their identification. With a prisoner as important as this one, the warden wasn't going to take any chances. Elisa paced just a bit as the guard unlocked the door and escorted them in. Robyn Canmore was already sitting down, handcuffed to the chair. She didn't look up as the two officers entered the small room. 

"Why can't this ever be easy?" Matt thought as he sighed. He grabbed a chair and sat down. Elisa simply paced back and forth. 

"Jason's out of surgery, now. The prognosis is good, but he'll never walk again." Matt said, keeping his voice low in sympathy. 

No response. 

"There's still no trace of Jon. Jason was worried something might have happened to him." 

No response. 

"Why did you do it, Robyn?" Matt leaned forward. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Elisa had stopped pacing and was just waiting in the corner. Good. Try to keep herself out of the picture until necessary. "All those people could have been killed." 

Silence greeted him. For all the response, she might have been a statue herself. 

Over in the corner, Elisa said, with just a touch of scorn in her voice, "Jason told us your plans. Last night, right before he went into surgery. He's trying to take the rap himself. We have enough on you, though, to make sure you never see the light of day again." 

"Robyn," Matt said, "the charges against you include multiple charges of assault on a police officer, destruction of public property, and use of weapons within the city limits. There's even talk of federal charges of terrorism being brought up against you, not to mention the international charges." Matt put on his best innocent look. "C'mon. We only want you to help us help you." 

Silence. Elisa walked over and grabbed Robyn by the shoulders. "You tried to kill a building full of police officers! You've spent your life full of murder and death! How many people have died because of you!" 

Robyn's eyes grew cold and hard, but not a word was said. 

Elisa could feel the rage building inside of her. "How many 'accidents' have you and your brothers caused? How many people weren't lucky enough to have survived your 'mistakes'? How many people have you killed?" Elisa was almost screaming now. Good. No one could play the 'bad cop' like Elisa Maza. But now for the coup' de grace. 

Matt stood up and grabbed Elisa by the shoulders. "Elisa! Get a hold of yourself!" 

"Get out of my way, Bluestone! She has to pay! If I have to do it myself, she's going to pay!" She started to struggle to get out of his grasp. Matt didn't dare look back to see if there was any reaction. The look on Elisa's face was murderous. In one quick motion, he took his hand off of Elisa's shoulder and slapped her across the face. 

Elisa was stunned. He just pierced her with a gaze. "Get out of here, Maza. Now!" 

She held her hand up to her face. "You'll regret this, Bluestone," she said with an icily cold tone. Without a second glance, she turned around and knocked for the guard to let her out. After a moment, Bluestone was alone in the room with his prisoner. 

Matt sat down again, then reached over and hit the stop button on the obvious video camera. "This is off the record, Robyn. You know _who_ Elisa's friends are. She cares very much for all of them, enough to step outside of the lines. I'm trying to help you." 

Canmore's remained impassive. Matt could tell he was going to get nowhere with her. "I'm sorry to see you feel that way, Robyn." 

He pulled back, got up and knocked on the door to be let out. He offered one more appeal Canmore. "Robyn, if for no other reason, help us out for your brothers' sake. Jason's going to need family around him now, and we're eventually going to get Jon. It's better if he comes in now, rather than compound his problem." Her face was a brick wall. 

Robyn didn't even look back as the officers took her back to her cell. The complete lack of empathy in her gaze made his skin crawl. He looked in vain for Elisa. It wasn't until he neared the check-in area that he caught up with his missing partner. One ear was glued to her cell phone and from the expression on his face the conversation was not going well. She slammed the phone with a snap just as he was allowed clearance back into the "free zone." 

"Wonderful. Just wonderful." 

His question and her declaration were spoken almost simultaneously. "Bad news, Partner?" 

He watched her as they walked to her Fairlane, as she fumed quietly while unlocking the door and starting the engine. 

"That was the Captain on the phone. The Commissioner has approved the final Task Force assignments." 

"Yeah so... what's so awful about that?" 

Elisa threw the car into reverse and began to head out of the parking lot. "You've been confirmed as team leader. Also there's Maguire, from the 26th, Hernandez from the 14th, Tanaka from the 22nd, Smith from the 18th..." 

Matt nodded in recognition at the names that she was reciting. All good cops, although Maguire could be a pain in the neck and Hernandez was a stickler for procedure, but good cops all the same. "So what's the problem?" he finally asked, interrupting Elisa's litany. 

She paused, taking a deep breath trying to collect her thoughts. "I've been stricken from the Task Force roster. We're still officially partners on other cases, but..." She paused. "The official reason is they only want one detective per precinct represented." She glanced at him sharply, pulled the car into the first available parking space and cut the engine. 

"And the unofficial reason?" 

She just shook her head. "I don't know. And Captain Chavez didn't seem to think it would be a good idea to fight this one." 

"Let it go, Elisa. I'll do what I can. Besides, _someone's_ gotta keep the streets safe while I'm battling bureaucrats and newshounds." 

She smiled at that and restarted the car. "Promise me, Matt. If you hear anything that concerns the guys that I'll be the first to know." 

"Of course." 

The Fairlane sped off into the night. 

***** 

Darkness, both within and without, surrounded Jon Canmore as he finished packing. After what he... after what those monsters had done, the darkness suited him just fine. He would have much rather taken more time, but who knows what they would do to his family? Jason, lying wounded at their feet; Robyn -- poor, sweet Robyn -- held hostage by those creatures. If he were to have any success at rescuing them, he would have to hurry. 

He turned on his television to see if there any had been any word on his family. He instantly recognized the blond hair and plastic attitude of Nicole St. John. "Police have apprehended Police Detective Jason Conover, alias Jason Canmore, and his sister Robyn Canmore on suspicion of the terrorist attack upon the 23rd Precinct police station. Still at large is their brother, former WVRN reporter Jon Carter, alias Jon Canmore. Police also want to question the creatures known only as 'gargoyles' about their involvement with the attack. However, the statement from Jason Canmore seem to clear the gargoyles of all involvement with the bombing." 

"NO!" His anger consuming him, Jon drew the .45 at his side and fired repeatedly at the television, leaving it in pieces. He collapsed, despair overwhelming him. "No, no, no..." 

"A bit of a sticky wicket, what?" 

Canmore looked over. He had been sure that he was alone, yet now there was a tall man, almost gaunt, standing in the corner, his black clothes and dark fedora blending him in with the shadows. He was devoid of ornamentation except for a small pin on his lapel, an eye superimposed over a pyramid. 

Canmore swung around and aimed the gun at the stranger. "Who -- who are you?" 

The stranger continued on, unconcerned about the gun. "A friend. Someone who believes the way that you do." 

Canmore sat down hard on the bed, his aim never wavering from the stranger. "Tell me more." 

The stranger gestured to a nearby chair. "Please," Canmore said his voice flat and toneless. "Be my guest." 

"I represent -- shall we say -- a consortium who believe that the Gargoyles are a threat to humanity. We have certain plans in action, but need someone to head the operation. Someone strong and decisive. Someone who knows the threat of these demons. The people I represent feel that someone is you." 

"I'm flattered," Canmore said, sarcasm dripping from every word. "And what would I get out of it?" 

"A regular salary, people working for you, legal counsel to help your family, and most of all, the opportunity for revenge." 

Canmore looked skeptical. "Sounds too good to be true. Of course there is the little problem of recognition, I can't exactly blend into the background, what with every television station and newspaper showing my picture all over the place." 

A thin, tight smile creased the stranger's face. "We'll also give you a new identity. And don't worry about your face. We have a very good surgical staff. You could almost say that they work magic...." 

Canmore started to open his mouth again, but the stranger interrupted him. "We've been following the Canmore family for some time now. We actually had thought about having your brother as our top man, but what with what happened to him..." The stranger leaned forward and stared straight into Canmore's eyes, appearing to peer straight into his soul, his voice almost melodic. "He fought the good fight, but now it's up to you to continue on." The two stared at each other. Canmore's felt his tight expression smoothing, his worries and fears being dissipated. 

The stranger slowly pulled back and stood straight. "But go ahead and take your time; think about it. The offer will be open for the next 24 hours." Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a card and a pen and wrote something on the back. "Call the number on this card if you're interested." Setting down the card on the arm of the chair, the stranger walked out and faded into the night. 

Canmore sat for a long while in the darkness staring at the card. As dawn broke, he finally reached over and picked it up. As he started towards the phone as he noticed the embossed logo -- a fist holding a hammer. 

***** 

The last rays of the setting sun backlit the awakening gargoyles as the air was filled with a roar and a rain of stone chips pelting the castle parapets. David Xanatos leaned safely out of harm's way and took in the view. "You know, Owen, I've missed this." 

"Mr. Xanatos, you are aware that their continued presence here is going to cause a substantial risk. The press cannot be stalled forever, and there are other considerations as well..." He trailed off, not sure how close he was to crossing the new boundaries that seemed to have cropped up when it came to the gargoyles. 

"I'm aware of the situation," Xanatos replied just a touch more sharply then he intended. "Besides, life itself is risk." he said, carrying more than a touch of his old ironic humor. 

"Yes, Sir." The matter was evidently closed and Owen took the hint not to pursue it further. "Will there be anything else?" 

"As a matter of fact, yes. I want Goliath and his clan to be afforded every hospitality. This is their home as much as ours. I'm sure that some adjustments will be required to make them comfortable. See to it that nothing is overlooked. " He paused and thought a moment. "And Owen, that includes Detective Maza. We may want to make her our 'special project'." 

"As you wish, Mr. Xanatos. She seemed quite adamant in her refusal of your assistance this afternoon." Owen replied. 

"I know, Owen. But it's the challenge of the situation that makes it so very interesting. How do we get the detective to do what's best for her despite all of her objections?" Xanatos noted the dour look on Owen's normally bland features. "Don't worry," he soothed. "It'll be fun." 

"Yes, Mr. Xanatos." Owen's tone and demeanor indicated that he shared a very different definition of fun. 

"That's all for now, Owen. I believe that Alexander will be needing your attentions soon and I want to review the quarterly statements and project lists for the Robotics Divisions, so if you could have those on my desk in say... thirty minutes." He glanced at his watch then stepped out of the shadows to meet the clan. 

Xanatos looked around at the gargoyles. He never thought he'd see a night like this one month ago, much less a year ago when the 'feud' was at it's highest. But even with the debt he owed Goliath, he couldn't help baiting Goliath in even more subtle ways now. "Ah, Goliath," he said, approaching the clan leader. "Sleep well? You looked remarkably... content tonight." 

It was difficult to tell in the diffused light but it appeared to Xanatos that the big gargoyle was blushing. He was also quick to note that Goliath scanned the terrace behind him and looked faintly disappointed when he realized that Xanatos was the only human present. 

"Your hasty departure from that church in front of all of those people had quite an effect on our little city. I'm afraid that the police are more than slightly occupied attempting to restore order." He noted the look of concern that immediately filled Goliath's broad features. "I'm sure Detective Maza is safe, just... busy. No doubt she'll contact you as soon as it's practical." He paused as he gestured towards the door. "In the meantime, you might want to glance at today's paper or the evening news. It looks like a good night to stay home, Goliath." His voice quieted as he talked to the large gargoyle. "The best warrior knows when to take time to regroup and relax." 

Goliath's emotions continued to play out on his craggy features. He seemed to be weighing duty against personal desire. Duty won out. "I suppose spending some time appraising our new situation would be best," he rumbled. 

"Good." He smiled and held out his hands in a gesture of welcome. "The castle is your home, once again. I have instructed Owen to make sure you want for nothing. All you have to do is ask." 

Goliath only grunted impassively. 

Xanatos looked around once again, hoping to find a friendlier recipient. "Brooklyn, Lexington. Undamaged, I see. Excellent." He skirted around Bronx. The beast looked as if he couldn't decide whether to lick his hand or tear out his throat. Actually, most of the clan seemed to be having the same problem. He noted with interest how Broadway blocked his path as he attempted to pay his respects to Angela. 

Time for a strategic retreat. "Well, I just wanted to welcome you home once again. If you need anything at all just let me know." 

He crossed back over to Goliath, who seemed to be measuring his clanmates' responses. "I nearly forgot to mention, I've had Owen prepare quarters for you in the West Wing. We're still setting up of course, remodeling takes time, but there's a study, entertainment center and hospitality suite where the furniture is built a little more `generously', shall we say? Of course, the entire castle is at your disposal. We just thought you might like some personal space." 

The conflicted look crossed Goliath's features again. He started to say something, reconsidered and gave a slight bow. "Your concern for our comfort is most kind. I'm sure the others will feel the same way... in time." 

Goliath studied Xanatos's departing back, conscious of Hudson's presence at his elbow. "The lads and lass are getting rather impatient and want to know what your instructions are. Will we be going on patrol tonight?" 

He took the few steps required to look over the edge of the balcony and stared out into the night. The lights of the city gleamed with a particular intensity, the result of nervous citizens and more nervous police officers out on the street. His gaze drifted towards Elisa's apartment complex and then toward the ruins of their own adopted clock tower. He sighed and wondered where it was going to end. He continued to gaze out at the city apparently lost in his thoughts. Hudson harrumphed softly at his side and brought his attention back to the moment. 

"No, not tonight. It might be best if we stayed in." He stalled Hudson's objections with a glance. "Our revelation to the world requires that we do a little reconnaissance prior to resuming our patrols. I believe that in this instance that television of yours might be of some use. Xanatos mentioned that many of the news programs were carrying stories about Demona's attack on the church last night. We should see what they are saying about us before we reemerge before the public. Besides," he said as he looked towards his charges, "I think they need a little time to absorb all the changes." 

Hudson noted that Goliath was looking inward again. And despite all of the previous night's terrors his face was strangely content. Sometimes there was no understanding the younger generation, he thought to himself. "As you say, lad. Actually a night in might do these old bones good." 

The younger males were clustered around Angela pointing out various features of the castle's architecture. She smiled prettily at all of them but favored Broadway with a special gaze of affection. Goliath frowned at that and wondered when his daughter had begun to take the males' flirtations seriously. Then he chastised himself for the thought. When had he picked up such a human attitude about pairing, he wondered? Angela was right to be choosing among the available warriors, she was of age and it was the gargoyle way. Still, he wondered what Elisa would have to say on the matter. His attention wandered away from those around him and out into the city where his beloved roamed, and he wondered when they would be able to continue what the sunrise had so abruptly ended with its first light. 

"Goliath? Goliath!" He heard his name called from far away and it wasn't until Brooklyn put his hand on his shoulder and nudged him slightly that he finally snapped back to reality. "Are you all right? You looked kinda spacey there for a minute." 

It took him a few seconds to translate Brooklyn's slang and he nodded his head. "I was just..." He trailed off. "Thinking," he concluded abruptly. "Xanatos has provided us quarters in the west wing. Take the others and make sure they are secure." The others had gathered around as well and were waiting for their assignments. 

"Broadway, why don't you take Angela and see to supper? But attend to Bronx first, will you?" The gar-beast, who had begun to pace nervously, looked up at Goliath gratefully. "Lexington, you were getting information off of that... 'EnterNet'?" 

"Internet." The young gargoyle corrected. 

"Ah. See if Owen can provide you with computer access. Xanatos said we only had to ask if we needed anything." 

The Trio and Angela with Bronx in tow dispersed to attend to their assignments. He listened to their excited chatter fade away and realized that Hudson was still standing at his elbow. His need for privacy to think over the events of the night before was growing intense. "Hudson," he began. "Old friend. Xanatos said that there was an entertainment area set aside in our new quarters. Why don't you monitor the news broadcasts to see what you can find out? I'll be in the library reviewing the newspapers." 

***** 

Brooklyn and Lex whistled in unison as they surveyed the quarters that Xanatos had assigned as their personal space. The delicate antiques that had occupied most of the wing had been replaced by sturdy and comfortable modern furniture. Lexington noted the trick double door that separated their wing from the hallway. "Check this out! Close the inner door and it looks like nothing but a plastered up wall. Slick!" He ran his talons over the faux plaster admiring the workmanship. "Xanatos couldn't have possible done this for us since last night." A touch of the old suspicion crept into his voice. "I wonder what he really meant these rooms for?" 

The question remained unanswered as Brooklyn called his attention to the pile of computer boxes stacked next to a Lexington sized work station. "Looks like he's anticipated a few of our needs. I think that these must be for you." 

"Wow..." Lex regained his kid-in-a-candy-store face and lovingly poked among the boxes. "This stuff is newer than new. It makes the laptop that Elisa bought me look like a baby toy." A melancholy look clouded his features as he thought about the loss of his previous computer and their adopted home. 

Brooklyn noticed the shift in mood and tried to bring Lexington back to the now. "Suppose you can get that thing running tonight? Goliath did say he wanted as much information as we could gather without leaving the castle." 

"Maybe, but there's an awful lot here to unpack." He began to sort through the boxes admiring the various components. "Whoa," he muttered excitedly. "A 15 gig hard drive!" 

Brooklyn left his rookery brother to unpack his toys and checked out the rest of their quarters himself. It really was amazing what money could buy. Once Hudson saw that overstuffed chair and entertainment center they knew they would never get him to fly another patrol. Huge TV screen, VCR, satellite system, laserdisc player, and a CD changer that carried more discs than he'd seen in a lifetime. And while the hospitality center would never rival the main kitchen, it looked more than capable of handling the clan's culinary needs. Broadway, after a year of cooking on a hotplate, would be a very happy camper. 

He supposed he should probably quit looking at the gadgets and stick to the important stuff. The mock door they had already discovered. Lex was right, it was good work and it would pass a careful inspection unless one knew exactly where to look. The windows had been modified against forced entry, but were large enough to allow even Broadway easy access. He wondered what these quarters had really been remodeled for, but let the question go as he heard the heavy steps of Hudson enter the main chamber. 

Hudson found the television as easily as if a homing beacon had been sounded. Brooklyn smiled to himself as he heard what could only be the sound of the clan's mentor sighing happily. A moment later the evening news began to drift into the chamber. He knew he should go in and see what was being broadcast, but the curious euphoria that had infected his clanmates was catching and he didn't want his good mood spoiled yet. His stomach growled and he wondered if Broadway had started dinner yet. He decided to reacquaint himself with the rest of the castle until suppertime. 

***** 

Bronx loped along happily rediscovering his former home. Angela and Broadway trailed behind trying to keep up with the stocky gar-beast. He stopped at the door, recessed into an alcove and waited impatiently for the pair to catch up. 

"Wait until you see what we have here." Broadway opened the door with a flourish and Angela gasped in amazement. 

"Oh!" Angela gasped as she tried to take in the lushness of the arboretum. "I've never seen anything so lovely." She stepped into the chamber. The gardens on Avalon were just as beautiful, but it was their nature to be beautiful. This was beauty by _design_... She circled in place awestruck at the wonder of it. 

Bronx barked his approval and loped off to roll in a patch of grass on the opposite end of the garden. 

"I have," Broadway spoke to himself as he gazed at his companion. 

"Did you say something? I didn't quite hear you." 

Broadway blushed. He hadn't realized he'd spoken out loud. "No! Uh, I mean its amazing what they've created here isn't it? It wasn't anything more than an enclosed courtyard in the old days. Humans used to wait here before they were admitted inside to see the prince." He congratulated himself on a quick save, then shifted his attention to Bronx who was sniffing the ground in search of prey. He remembered that Goliath had assigned him a task and he decided he'd better get with it. 

"I should probably get going... to the kitchen I mean. Bronx looks hungry and..." He trailed off suddenly conscious of her nearness again. 

Bronx at the mention of the word "hungry" pricked up his ears and loped out of the arboretum with a happy howl. 

"All right." Angela agreed. "I'm a little hungry myself. "And I'm dying to see more of this amazing castle." 

Broadway sketched out a court bow that would have his old tutor, Brother Edmund, beam with pride, then shyly took Angela's arm. He began to point out other changes that had been made to the structure since its American rebirth. 

***** 

Owen pressed the save key to store the invoices from the household expense report he was compiling and moved quickly to the next stack of items. He paused long enough to remove his glasses, wipe his eyes and remove an imaginary speck of dust from his lenses before resettling the frames on his nose. It had been a long day and promised to be a longer night. He closed the household bookkeeping system and was about to open the window to begin the business briefs for the morning, when Alexander's insistent wail came over the baby monitor. 

He rose from his desk and traveled the short distance to Alex's nursery. As he entered the room he noted that Fox had arrived first and the baby, despite his mother's best efforts, refused to be quieted. She bounced him futilely once or twice and then crossed to the changing table. She waved off his offer of assistance before he could voice the question. "I've got this end of things covered, Owen. Could you see to his dinner, please?" 

"Of course, Madam. Will there be anything else?" 

"Actually, yes. Do you know where Alex's stuffed fuzzy is? David had it earlier when he was playing with Alex in his office. I looked there, but I can't find it. And you know how this little tyrant is without his favorite toys at bedtime." Fox began to tickle the baby and he responded with coos and giggles. 

"Yes, Ma'am. Find the fuzzy. Very good. I shall be in the kitchen." He withdrew from the nursery and noted the dull ache that was beginning to grow behind his temples. 

The ache turned into a roar as Owen surveyed his once pristine kitchen. Every cupboard door was open and there wasn't a single free inch of counter space. The beast Bronx was in the corner lapping at a dish of something unidentifiable with such gusto that it sprayed the walls and floor in a three-foot radius. The female, Angela, was perched on a stool a safe distance from the chaos with a doubtful expression marring her lovely features. 

"What exactly did you say you were making again, Broadway?" She tried not to let the doubt on her face creep into her voice and was only partially successful. 

"It's called a smorgasbord. Basically, it's a little bit of this and a little bit of that. It seems like everyone's going to be busy tonight so this way they can grab what they want and get back to whatever they're doing. Great idea, huh?" 

"It seems awfully complicated. Do you really need all of those pots and pans?" She got off of the stool and tentatively began to try to restore order. 

Owen chose that moment to make his presence known. "I see you remembered where the kitchen was." Then he remembered Xanatos's new courtesy edict. "Have you found everything you required? I could send out for additional supplies if necessary." A trace of sarcasm lingered in Owen's tone. Angela picked up on it and started to give him a disapproving look but then she glanced around the room, saw his point, and smiled apologetically. 

"I'm sure that Broadway has more than enough here to work with. Don't you, Broadway." The last was a statement, not a question. The gargoyle gourmand finally realized that maybe he had gone a tad overboard. 

"Well, I supposed that some of this could be frozen for another night. It's just been so long since I had a real kitchen to work in and I had all those recipes from the cooking channel I wanted to try out. Do you suppose I'm going to get in trouble over this?" 

Owen thought of his household budget figures, revised it upward by 45% and tried to ignore the pounding in his head. "I'm sure that Mr. and Mrs. Xanatos will appreciate your enthusiasm. However right now I need to prepare dinner for Master Alexander and since I don't see anything appropriate here..." 

Broadway looked apologetic again and started loading the prepared food onto a pair of dinner trolleys. "I'll just get this out of your way, then come back to clean up." He looked at Angela and she smiled back at him. The pair departed with the food-laden carts and Owen tried to clear enough space to warm Alex's baby food. 

There was a mournful whine at his feet and Owen looked down into the pleading face of Bronx. "Haven't you had enough?" He looked at the floor and wall surrounding the empty dish. They had been licked spotless. But he would still have to scrub the gar-dog drool off the surfaces. He considered bringing Alex in for a moment and maybe telling him a story like the "Sorcerer's Apprentice" complete with visual aids, but then he thought about the wrath of Oberon and rejected the notion. "Go on back to your friends. The kitchen is now closed." The microwave pinged and Owen stirred the tiny portions of mashed turkey and bananas to distribute the heat. Bronx gave him one more wistful look, then padded silently out of the kitchen leaving Owen in the midst of chaos. 

***** 

As promised, Xanatos had left a stack of newspapers in the library. Goliath thumbed through the stack noting the titles: The Globe, The New York Post, The Sentinel, The Los Angeles Times, all the major U.S. metropolitan news papers and several foreign ones were represented. All had one thing in common: the gargoyles had made page one, in large type. 

He shook his head and gathered up the pile of papers to examine in more detail. He settled himself in a comfortable armchair and tried to concentrate on his information gathering, but the different reaccountings of the night's events only drew his memory toward the evening's conclusion. 

"You know how I feel about you...right?" 

"How... we _both_ feel. Yes." 

"Good." 

And then the touch of her lips against his, as he was frozen in stone. 

He allowed himself to savor the moment a little while longer, then pulled himself away from the memory so that he could concentrate on the task at hand. Starting with the New York papers he skimmed the stories rapidly, relieved to see that beyond the barest details they carried very little actual information. They noted the events at St. Damian's and recorded that two suspects had been held for questioning both in the destruction of the church and the bombing of the 23rd precinct, were now shown to be linked. One suspect -- Jason Canmore -- was being held in medical lockup due to injuries sustained during the incident. Robyn Canmore was being held at an undisclosed location pending psychiatric review and the filing of formal charges. A third suspect, believed to be their brother Jon, was at large and wanted for questioning. 

The further away one got from New York the more speculative the reports became. There was even one story from Los Angeles that attempted to explore the urban myths of New York, including alligators and mutant turtles living in the sewers. He skimmed the story, chuckling despite himself as he read and finally put the paper aside to share with Elisa. He compiled several other editions that seemed to have relevant stories and departed the library to see the rest of his new home. 

***** 

The returning clan members converged almost simultaneously on the west wing. Brooklyn arrived in time to relieve Angela of the over-laden dining trolley she was pushing, and helped her set the table. She smiled at him warmly, but he couldn't help but notice the proud looks she bestowed on Broadway as he unveiled each of his creations. If it hadn't smelled so good and he hadn't been so hungry, he would have lost his appetite. Instead he pulled Lexington away from his boxes, and wires, and cables and was about to do the same with Hudson, when Goliath returned with a stack of newspapers in hand. The dopey expression he had worn earlier was replaced by a look of concern. In response to the unasked question he handed Brooklyn the papers. 

He scanned them a minute and whistled. "Looks like we've still got that PR problem." He read a moment or two longer. "The Hunters got a fair amount of ink though, and Demona got away without so much as a word." He looked as disgusted as he felt. "How does she do that?" 

Hudson came out of the rec room and joined the conversation. "We made the news, that's for sure, lads. Top story on every channel." 

Broadway called dinner at that moment. Despite their worries they were all hungry and Broadway had done a wonderful job. Plates laden with steaming meats and vegetables, hot breads and noodles, they gathered round the table and shared their findings. Goliath suddenly realized that it was the first peaceful evening they had shared in a very long time. Perhaps somehow things would work out after all. 

He helped himself to another spoonful of something Broadway called "potato salad" and marveled at the flavors. Back in the old days, burdock roots, the closest thing to potatoes, came boiled and mashed, or maybe cut up in a stew. But serving roots of any kind, cold and mixed with other ingredients was quite an innovation. He wondered if Elisa knew how to make potato salad and smiled. 

The meal concluded, Broadway persuaded Lex and Brooklyn to help him with the kitchen patrol and the trio departed. Angela trailed after Goliath and Hudson back into the recreation room to see what was on the television. It was getting late and except for one particularly persistent station, the programming had resumed the normal schedule breaking in occasionally with a special update interruption. Hudson flipped the channel to David Letterman, who was reading his Top Ten list. 

Tonight _they_ were The "Top Ten List". They listened to the countdown ("And the number one way to tell if you're infested with gargoyles -- two words: Gargoyle guano!") and Goliath began to growl low in his throat. Hudson took the hint and switched stations. The hockey game he was hoping to find had been preempted by a special news report. On screen, a zookeeper at the Washington Park Zoo was speculating on what gargoyles really were. 

"Well, Kent," He was saying to the in-studio anchor. "Without having a specimen to actually study, it is difficult to speculate, but if we go by the stories that have been reported, stone by day, able to fly by night I think we are talking about an entirely new species, a very exciting find indeed." 

Goliath motioned for Hudson to flip the channel. He landed on one of the free access cable stations. A woman, calm and utterly rational in appearance, was delivering a prepared speech. Hudson, who up to this point had rather enjoyed the hopeless nonsense they had been watching, glanced up at Angela who had been standing quietly near by. The color was draining from her face. Goliath was struggling to control his growing rage. 

"...It is obvious that these creatures are a sign. The arrival of the Apocalypse is imminent. For why else would hellspawn such as these come to live among us? It is rumored that they have done good deeds, have helped people in their time of need. But what other way could ones as hideous as these gain the trust they need to lead the corruption of those who have strayed from the true path to salvation...." 

Goliath roared in true anger. "What do these people _want_ from us?!" he bellowed and stormed out of the room. Angela ran after her father, terrified at what he might do in such a dangerous mood. 

Hudson shook his head, thumbed the television off and looked down at Bronx who had been settled at his feet. "We're in for grave times, boy. Grave times indeed." 

***** 

The warehouse was a bustle of excitement. People moving and unpacking crates, lining up the gunmetal gray hammers in one corner, polishing the armor in another. In a corner a tall dark man conferred with a youth. 

He pointed to the man at the center of it all, a tall blond, his eyes sparkling with infectious zeal. The boy nodded that he understood and he approached the blond dynamo, holding up a clip board. "Mr. Canmore?" he asked tentatively, unwilling to break the man's concentration. 

"CASTAWAY!" The man exploded. "MY NAME IS CASTAWAY!" 

The young man cowered away. Castaway's look softened. "What is it, son? How can I help you?" 

He held the clipboard up to "Mr. X wanted to verify the schedule with you." 

Castaway studied the printouts on the clipboard. "Tell him that we need to move the rally up by a week and that the meetings need to be weekly than bi-weekly." 

As the teen walked away, Castaway spied a familiar figure in the corner. Walking briskly, Castaway soon joined him. 

"Reacting to Canmore's name can be a fatal mistake," the stranger said, "it might bring down everything we've worked for." 

"Don't worry," Castaway said, "it won't happen again." 

"You must not react to the name Canmore as if it was yours." 

Castaway shook his head, as if to clear it, then whispered, "I can't believe this setup. Even with the support my family had, we could never have accomplished anything like this." He swept his had across, encompassing the entire warehouse. 

The black-garbed stranger's mouth tightened in a grimaced smile. "And just think, my friend. This is only the tip of the iceberg." 

Castaway looked over at the line of hammers. "I'm still not sure about these hammers. Wouldn't a laser gun be more effective?" 

A black glove reached out and took one of the hammers off of their rack. "A gun would instill fear amongst the humans as much as it would the gargoyles. That would defeat our purposes. The hammer is as much a symbol as it is a weapon." He paused. "Plus, lasers can't do this." 

Using only one hand, the stranger cocked the hammer's grip as if it was a gun. A humming emanated from the hammer's head as energy cascaded around it. Reaching back, he threw it into the middle of the warehouse, where it seemed to explode. When the dust and debris cleared, they saw the hammer, resting comfortably in the deep crater it had created. 

All activity had stopped in the warehouse. Castaway walked into the crater, grabbed the hammer and hefted it over his head. "Friends, hear me! Like this hammer, we will strike hard and strike fast. The demons that seek to destroy humanity from within shall be no more!" 

As Castaway basked in the cheer from the people around him, his mysterious benefactor slipped out the side into the night. As the sounds of the warehouse grew quiet, he looked back at the warehouse and whispered to himself: 

"The master will be pleased." 

**__**

THE END 


	2. Fallout, Part Two

Gargoyles-- Fallout part 2

FALLOUT: PART TWO 

Written By: Kathy Pogge, Thomas F. Revor Jr. 

With contributions by: Tigris Euphrates and Rachel J. Mahnken 

Previously on _Gargoyles_:   


ELISA: "It's foolish to be seen right now!" 

GOLIATH: "When will it not be foolish? When will we be safe 

from those that dispute our very right to exist?" 

"_[The Journey][1]_"    
  
The clang of metal on metal rang throughout the courtyard as Tom watched his charges practice. "Ezekiel, keep your wings back when you swing! Edmund! Raise your shield and protect Zacharias's flank!" The swords had taken long enough to forge, but seeing the Eggs using them as though they'd been born to it brought a warmth of pride in Tom. 

It had been so peaceful, so idyllic on Avalon for so long, that the concept of an attack had been all but foreign to them. But ever since the attack of the Archmage and the return of Lord Oberon and the Third Race, Tom had sworn to himself that they would not be unprepared again. And the time would eventually come when another of the Eggs would want to join their rookery sister Angela in the outside world. He would want them ready for anything. 

Tom glanced up at the window to an upper room of the castle. "Katharine! Is Ophelia not done yet?" 

Inside the room, Princess Katharine, formerly of Castle Wyvern, called down. "Ach, Tom! She'll be done when she's done and not a moment before then!" She turned her attention back to the ornate mirror before her as the pale green gargoyle behind her continued to try to style the Princess's hair. "Dinnae worry, lass," she said with a wry smile. "Tom may have his wishes, but we have ours as well." 

"Is that not the way of all royalty, Princess?" Both Katharine and Ophelia turned as Queen Titania entered the room, and Katharine stiffened. Ever since the return of the Third Race to this island, Katharine had always felt a little insecure around Titania. The unearthly beauty of the Queen of the Fay always made the aging Princess aware of each and every flaw in her own mortal face and form. 

"To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit, milady?" Ophelia asked, attempting a curtsey. Katharine hid a smile. There were many things that the gargoyle excelled at, but curtseying was not one of them. 

"I wished to look in on my daughter, and needed to borrow my mirror back." 

"Oh!" Ophelia's face brightened. "Do you think we can look in on Goliath as well?" 

"I don't see why not, my dear." As Titania waved her hand, the mirror clouded over, and soon the reflection of the room was replaced with a scene both familiar and strange to Katharine: the Great Hall of Castle Wyvern. As they looked further, the mirror seemed to center its focus on the tall, severe-looking man talking into some strange device in his hand. 

*****   


Owen Burnett was momentarily startled. He had the oddest sense that someone was watching him, but he knew that no one was around. Ignoring the feeling, he continued speaking into the cellular phone. "I'm sorry, Mr. Takahashi. Xanacorp has no interest in voiding the contracts. The purchase stands. And as stated in the contract, we will wish to keep you around as an advisor on the project." He paused as the person on the other end started talking again. "I am sure that Mr. Xanatos will call as soon as he is free. Thank you, Mr. Takahashi." No sooner had he folded up the cell-phone than it buzzed again. The Caller ID code was registered to the lobby security guard. He opened it and answered, "Burnett. Yes, Mr. Archer?" 

All was quiet as he listened to the young security guard. "No, Mr. Archer, you are not correct. I want you to immediately find Detective Maza, apologize, then escort her back into the building. And in the future, Mr. Archer, Detective Maza is to have carte blanche access. You are to waive the normal procedures and send her up immediately. If you had bothered to read the daily log you would have known of the change in procedure." He paused again to listen to the guard. "See that you do. And Mr. Archer, this is going to be placed on your record." 

Folding the phone once again and finally placing it back in his suit pocket, he counted to thirty, then strode across the hall, standing in front of the elevator. As if on cue, the elevator doors opened. "Good evening, Detective Maza." Elisa looked at him quizzically. "This is a social call, is it not?" he inquired. 

She relaxed slightly, but was still apprehensive about being back in 'enemy territory.' "I suppose it is at that. I'm here to see Goliath and the clan. Want to make sure they're okay." 

"Of course, Detective. Right this way." He escorted her away from the usual route to the roof and down a long corridor in the residential section of the castle. He pushed open the heavily carved door to reveal a library. Elisa noted that the furniture was much more generously cut than the other rooms of the castle she had seen on previous visits. A fire burned brightly under an ornately carved stone mantel. Despite the room's size, the effect was cozy. "Please have a seat. I will tell Goliath that you have arrived." He gave a slight bow and withdrew from the room. 

***** 

In the television room, Goliath was pacing impatiently. "Ach, Goliath." His mentor and friend, Hudson, was fidgeting in his chair. "'Tis bad enough your fretting is distracting me, but this chair is uncomfortable to my old bones as well." Finally stopping, Hudson grumbled to himself. "Thrice-damned Hunters. Blowing up a perfectly good chair. And just when I had it broken in, too..." 

Owen entered the room and was nearly bowled over by Goliath. "Excuse me," Goliath said, his deep voice filling the room. "I didn't see you." 

"Of course. Detective Maza is waiting for you in the library." He adjusted his glasses and continued. "Mr. Xanatos requests that you encourage her to reconsider his offer. After the unpleasantness of the other evening, it should be apparent even to Detective Maza that her living arrangements are no longer secure." 

A low rumble built up deep in his throat. "I will see what I can do." He took his leave of Owen and Hudson and strode down the hallway to the library. 

Goliath opened the door expecting to see the face of his beloved. He was momentarily startled not to see her. Glancing around, he found her curled on the sofa, drowsing before the flames. Her ebony hair caught glints of the firelight and she appeared in his eyes to be a creature from a myth; the sleeping princess awaiting to be awoken with a kiss. He went quickly to her side and knelt, unwilling to disturb her slumber. She must have been very tired to have fallen asleep so quickly. He reached down and gingerly moved a stray lock of her hair back in place. She shifted and captured his hand in hers. 

"Hey, Big Guy." She fluttered her lashes a few times, then arched and stretched luxuriously. 

"Hello, Elisa. I am sorry if I disturbed you. You need your rest." 

She shook her head and sat up. "I can catch up on my sleep later. I needed to see you, make sure you were safe." She paused, looking away. "I've missed you." 

He rose long enough to seat himself on the couch and pull Elisa into his embrace. "I've missed you as well." He reveled in her warmth and inhaled her odd but intoxicating aroma of soap and humanity. Elisa snuggled close, sharing his need for tranquility. These last few nights had been difficult on her. Goliath knew that the sudden revelation of the clan's existence had strained the inhabitants of a normally tense city. Elisa's job put her on the front lines, defending the citizens from themselves. But then to be attacked by those madmen, in her own home, was too much for almost anyone. Yet somehow she'd made it through. 

He stroked her hair a moment longer and felt Elisa relax against him. She was going to drift off to sleep again. He knew he couldn't put things off much longer. He cleared his throat, wondering just how to approach what was a touchy subject. 

"You needn't stay away anymore. Stay here, with the clan. With me." 

She pushed away from his chest and looked straight into his eyes, all signs of sleep gone from her face. "What did you say?" 

"It isn't safe for you to live alone any longer. These Quarrymen..." He trailed off, trying to express a fear that he didn't even want to contemplate. "If anything were to happen to you..." He couldn't complete the sentence, but the look on his face said it all. But then, so did the look on hers. 

"Goliath, that's nonsense. Nothing is going to happen to me. Between dealing with big time thugs like Brode and Dracon, not to mention the regular perps I deal with, I thought you knew I could take care of myself." She shook her head and tried to gentle her words. "Besides, I can't live here." She got up and began to pace. "I'm a police officer. Both Xanatos and his wife are convicted felons. I shouldn't even be here now. If my position as a police is officer is compromised, I can't protect you. I can't protect anyone!" She turned back to face him. "Can't you see what I'm saying? Being a cop is as much a part of my life, my way of thinking as protecting the city is to yours." 

Goliath rose to his feet, the earlier sedate mood broken. "What if the Quarrymen come back and I'm not there to protect you? What if they come back during the day?" 

The toil of another sleepless day finally snapped Elisa's patience. "My grandfather didn't let a bunch of hood-wearing freaks scare him out of his home and neither will I!" Her eyes seemed to glow like burning embers. Whether a reflection of the firelight or the fire burning inside of her, it caught Goliath by surprise. She turned her back on him and stared into the flames. 

He came up to her and gently wrapped his arm and wing around her. "I was once told that a home is less about stone and wood and more about being safe with ones loved ones." 

"Goliath," she said through clenched teeth, "don't quote my own words back at me." 

"But they _are_ good words, Detective." David Xanatos stood in the doorway, leisurely leaning against the frame. "I didn't mean to interrupt, but I did hear my name being taken in vain. Goliath is right. You are more than welcome here." 

Elisa could feel the rage in her building even higher. "After what you did to my brother? Not to mention what Internal Affairs would do to me!" 

A touch of sadness crossed over Xanatos' face. "I can't undo happened to Derek, but I am trying to make reparations. And if you're worried about your standing with the police, you could always work for me as the new Chief of Security for Xanacorp." Her eyes began to flash again. "Or not," he amended hastily. "I know you don't believe me yet, Detective... Elisa... but I am a new man. Give me a chance to prove it to you. Let me move you into new quarters if you won't come here. Or at least upgrade your current security." 

"It seems like a reasonable solution, Elisa," Goliath entreated. "For your sake... for our sake, please say 'yes'." 

Her eyes narrowed, the anger on her face more than evident, and focused in on her would-be benefactor. "Xanatos, I don't trust you." She looked up at Goliath, the anger replaced on her face with a look of tender caring. "But for Goliath's sake, I'll think about it." 

"That's all I ask." He turned to leave, then caught himself. "One other thing. Speaking of your brother, I can't seem to reach your parents. I have a proposal for them and him." Xanatos could see from her face that he had more than worn out her patience. "But this isn't the time or place to talk about it." He lowered his voice, and contritely said, "I do wish to undo the damage I've done to your family, Elisa." He slowly turned on heel and walked away. 

"Will you really think about Xanatos' offer?" 

"Leopards can't change their spots, Goliath, and neither can David Xanatos." She turned to face him again. "Besides, I'm not the one at risk right now. I'd don't want you patrolling the city for a while..." 

"ELISA!" Goliath broke away, shocked. "How can you even suggest such a thing! It is our duty -- our obligation -- to protect this island! A gargoyle can no more stop protecting than he can stop breathing the air!" 

"We poor cops managed before you were here and we'll manage long after you're gone." As soon as the words were said, she realized the damage she had done. The last traces of her anger disappeared. "Goliath, I don't want anything to happen to you, either. If I promise to honestly consider Xanatos' offer, will you keep the clan in for a while?" 

He embraced his beloved and held her to his chest. "We are two of a kind, my Elisa. I will be careful..." He tilted her chin up gently so that he could see her eyes. "...if you do the same." 

She smiled wistfully at him and then broke the embrace. "I have to go to work now. The city is on riot alert and every officer has been pulling double shifts. I'll try and come see you tomorrow if I can." She looked away, her eyes welling up with tears. "I don't want to lose you now that we've found each other." 

He caressed her face and kissed her gently on the top of the head. "I will look forward to then, my love. Be safe." 

She gave his hand a quick squeeze then exited the library before she could change her mind. She bumped into Brooklyn as she entered the corridor. "Sorry 'bout that, Brooklyn." She noticed that he seemed to be in a sour frame of mind. "Is something wrong?" 

"Oh, not much. Just life... the universe... everything." 

There was something about Brooklyn's response that seemed familiar, but she couldn't quite place it. "I'm going to be late for roll call if I don't get a move on it. Would you like to talk about it later?" 

"Yeah, sure. O.K." 

"I'll talk with you then. Later!" She hurried down the hallway and left Brooklyn staring at her. 

He found Goliath brooding in front of the fireplace, took one look at the somber expression on the clan leader's face and snuck quietly out. He got three steps out the doorway before he caught sight of Xanatos heading for the library. "I don't think I'd go in there if I were you," he began in warning. "Goliath has that 'do not disturb' look again." 

"I take it that Detective Maza has just left?" Xanatos queried. 

"Uh, yeah. Just a few minutes ago. She was acting a little weird, too." 

"They were having a minor disagreement earlier. Perhaps Goliath needs something to take his mind off of things. I believe that I have just the ticket. Care to join me?" 

"O.K. Yeah. Sure." Brooklyn nodded and followed Xanatos back into the library, keeping a respectful distance from Goliath. 

Xanatos cleared his throat as he entered into the library. Brooklyn was right. Goliath clearly looked as if he didn't want to be disturbed. Too bad. 

"Goliath. Our little discussion earlier got me thinking. I do want to prove to Detective Maza that I can be trusted. And I know that the castle, generous as it is, must be feeling a little... confining?" 

The lines on Goliath's face drew even more severe as his eyes glowed ever so slightly. "And?" 

"I had originally planned to use the newest Coyote prototype against you. However, since I no longer have need of it, I want to get it back to the tower to be dismantled. Would you like to go along with it and make sure it gets back here? Stretch your wings, so to speak?" 

Goliath nodded. He'd promised that they would be careful, not that they would suspend their patrols. Xanatos did seem sincere in his offer and his change of heart. And surely there was no danger in just following a delivery truck, especially when Xanatos' own men would be with it. 

"Wonderful. I'll have Owen brief you shortly." He turned to leave, paused to consider his words and turned back. "I'm sure that whatever Detective Maza said, she meant well. We all have your best interests at heart." Without another word, Xanatos left the two gargoyles alone. 

Goliath watched him depart through narrowed eyes. "I wonder what he knows of our conversation?" 

Brooklyn also watched the departing Xanatos. "Trust me, Goliath. It doesn't take surveillance gear to figure out that something's going on." And with that he beat a hasty retreat to let the others know that they had some work to do. 

***** 

As the mirror clouded over again, Ophelia frowned. "Something seems amiss with Goliath and the Lady Elisa." 

"Indeed," agreed Katharine. "What sort of peril would cause their love to fray like that?" 

"And cause my son-in-law to offer his protection?" Titania finished. "I don't like this. Anything that could threaten your clan may also threaten my grandson." With another wave of her hand, the glass once again regained its focus. The ladies looked at each other with puzzled glances. 

"Why, a tavern?" exclaimed Katharine. "What could threaten the clan or the babe in there?" 

"The same as in any tavern," Titania said. "Conspirators, assassins and thieves." 

***** 

"Will you relax?" Jackal hissed as he swirled the last of the soda in his glass. "You're drawing attention with all that fidgeting!" 

Hyena fidgeted again, as much to annoy her brother as to try to get comfortable in the bulky jacket and hood she wore. "We could've gone to France, Spain, even Florida! But nooooo... We had to come back to the Big Apple! Home of Xanatos, Gargoyles, and prison! And I've had quite enough of the last, thank-you-sir!" 

Jackal glanced around the room and looked at the assembled human wreckage. He recognized more than a few old business associates quietly playing pool and soaking up beer. "I doubt the 'A List' is going to make an appearance tonight, Sis. So just chill out. I've set us up with a sweet deal..." One of the pool players scratched a shot and sent a ball flying towards Jackal. With a sweep of his arm, he snatched the ball out of the air and crushed it into powder with one hand. "Eat your heart out, Lee Majors..." 

"Well, don't keep me in suspense, tell me more!" 

"This guy, Dave G., said that his employers are very motivated to find associates with... 'special qualifications.' And they are willing to pay handsomely..." 

"Money's nice," Hyena agreed reluctantly, "but diamond's aren't this girl's only friend." She tried to pick up her drink, but the servos in her arm malfunctioned, leaving the glass suspended in mid air. "A little help here?" she prodded as she looked at the glass and then her arm in disgust. "Stupid thing hasn't worked right since they cut all the wires back in the pen. And it's soooo hard to find a good mechanic." 

Jackal poked at the arm's control panel. There was a slight spark as a wire contact melted and fused. The arm jerked slightly, spilling the soda on Hyena, but then began to move correctly once again. 

"You did that on purpose," she accused, wiping the drink off of her. 

"Moi?" Jackal said, the picture of innocence. "Would I do that to my loving sister?" 

"In a heartbeat, brother dear. So, will this job give us enough to fix these things?" 

"That's the best part of the deal, Sis! They will do upgrades, install the latest technology, the works! We'll be better, stronger, faster..." 

"At a cost of..." 

"Cost is no object to my employers. If you can do the job." 

Jackal knocked over his glass as a third party, covered head to toe in black clothing, seemed to just appear behind him. 

"Geeez, Dave! How many times have I told you not to do that!" 

Hyena, for her part, was trying to get the 'sudden malfunction' in her autonomic system to settle down. "You move kinda quiet, guy. Kinda like a big mouse, y'know...?" Her breathing slowed down as her heart rate finally returned to normal. 

"Never call me that!" he hissed, the smoky bar room light making his eyes look like they were glowing with a weird green light. Hyena cringed in the corner. 

"Sorry! Really! It was a compliment!" she added hastily. 

"You are forgiven, then," he said, "this time... Be sure not to repeat the error." As he calmed down, his eyes lost the weird glow. "Perhaps we should discuss the matter at hand." His voice became low and soothing and the siblings had to lean inward to hear his voice. "There is a certain armored car that is going to deliver some technology my employers would find... useful to own now rather than develop independently. They wish you to divert the car from its route and deliver it here." He pulled a map from his pocket and explained the   
specifics of the plan. 

When he finished, he looked at them with a gaze that seemed to penetrate to their souls. "Are you quite clear on the instructions?" 

"Sure, piece of cake." Hyena drawled. "Right, brother?" 

"You can count on us, Dave. You know you can. Just like we know we can count on you to deliver the goods." Jackal agreed. 

"If you do as you are instructed, the world will be your oyster. Good night." He backed away from the table and seemed to fade into the shadows. 

Jackal stared off into space for a moment and then tapped his eyepiece. "Y'know, I think this thing must be fritzing again. I could've sworn that Dave wasn't quite there and I was looking right at him." 

"Great," Hyena complained. "He's a weirdsmobile and you're losing it. What have I gotten myself into?" she moaned as she emptied her glass. They started to get up when Jackal noticed that there was something blocking his path. 6 feet 2 inches and 350 pounds of biker. 

"You broke our ball." 

Jackal looked over at his sister. "Hey, sis! Congratulate him! Mad Dog finally stopped dragging his knuckles!" 

It took a moment for the insult to filter its way through what passed for a brain in the thug. "Hey! I'm gonna cut you man!" he yelled as he pulled a switchblade out of his belt. 

Hyena sauntered her way over to him. "You call that a knife?" she queried, looking at the switchblade. "Nah," she said with disdain in her voice. "This is a knife!" At that, she held her hand up, extending the blades out of her fingers to their full length. 

The blood drained from Mad Dog's face as he looked at the extended blades, then quickly bolted to the back of the room. The two siblings just looked at each other and laughed as they walked out the door. 

***** 

"Something is dreadfully amiss." Titania tore her gaze away from the glass and frowned. "There is something extremely familiar about that man." She shook her head in frustration. "He has the air of evil about him. Sisters three, attend me!" 

As one, the three sisters appeared in front of the mirror. "You command us, Milady, and we come," they spoke with one voice. 

Titania motioned for them to move aside and had the previous scene replay itself on the mirror. "This man, the one in black. I want you to go the mortal realm and watch him and all who he deals with." 

The three replied in turn, as if in performance: 

"We would like to assist you, Lady." 

"But Oberon has commanded the fay not to leave Avalon." 

"If we obey you, we risk his wrath." 

Titania's eyes flashed with anger. "Would you rather upset Lord Oberon, or would you rather upset me?" 

The three opened their mouths to speak, but Titania interrupted them. "Did his Lordship not say that you are to obey my commands as if he spoke them himself? Now go!" Light streamed from Titania's eyes, enveloping the three and temporarily blinding Katharine and Ophelia. By the time their eyes cleared, they saw the sisters had disappeared. 

"Can you trust them, milady?" Katharine inquired gently. 

"It's true that they have their own goals," Titania admitted. "But my place is here. They will answer truly." Her eyes once again flashed with the magic of her race. "For their own sakes, they will." 

"Lady Titania?" Ophelia said, her voice a whisper. "Surely there must be someone to help. Are there not any allies for our kin?" 

***** 

"You want me to drink leaves boiled in water?" 

"With a splash of lemon or perhaps milk, your majesty." 

Anyone who entered the "Into the Mystic shoppe" now would be stricken with the differences between the two men arguing. One embodied the past of England. The strength of arm and steel, when magic and sorcery was something strange and wonderful to behold and when a dream called Camelot was more than a dream. All in the man known as Arthur Pendragon, Lord of the Britons and the once and future king. The other, Captain Colin Marter, formerly of the Royal Air Force, was straight out of the English Gentleman's Handbook. Suit completely pressed, umbrella and bowler at his side, and completely unflappable, he was holding out the china cup and saucer filled with his best freshly brewed Darjeeling tea. 

Arthur sat back in his chair and scoffed. "Merlin made me drink such things as a youth. I doubt the flavor has progressed in the time since." "Now this," he said, grabbing a hold of a nearby tankard, "is a man's drink. Something to test a man's fortitude and put hair on his chest." He looked across the room at the two gargoyles sitting there, chuckling to themselves. "What did you call this again, Sir Griff?" 

"Prune juice, your majesty." 

Colin had opened his mouth to respond when the telephone rang. "Into the Mystic. How may I help you?" He paused. "I understand." Setting the phone next to it's cradle, he walked over to the older of the three gargoyles. "Leo, it's for you. It's Drake." 

The leonine gargoyle padded over to the phone. "Leo here." After several minutes of listening to Leo 'mmmhmmm' to the party on the other end, the whole room grew quiet as they watched him. "You can tell those youngsters that until the entire clan is ready, we shall continue to operate as we always have." A moment more and then Leo put the phone back on the cradle, ending the call. 

"Bloody 'ell." 

Griff walked over to his friend. "Here now, Leo. It can't be all that bad." 

"Unfortunately, my friend, it is. Ever since the Hunters revealed the existence of Goliath's clan, some of the younger clanmembers have wanted to reveal themselves on the telly. 'Great publicity,' they say. 'No more skulking about the castle.' Bah. They don't see the dangers that can come about from such foolishness. What was Goliath thinking?" 

"From what I saw, Leo, it wasn't exactly his choice." 

***** 

"You got that lock secured, Mike?" The driver called out to his partner. "Mr. X will have our heads on a platter if something happens to this load!" 

"Ah, you worry too much, Morty," he heard from behind this truck. "Besides, I've been wanting to get away from this Mickey Mouse operation for some time. Too many problems with those gargoyles." 

"Yeah, yeah. Right next to the pink elephants." Morty waited as his partner climbed into the cab. "I'll stick to the late show, thankyouverymuch." 

"I don't know, Morty." Mike replied, momentarily shaken as the truck pulled out. "I have this cousin, see, who has this girlfriend, who's sisters fiancée jogs in Central Park and sees 'em all the time." 

"Oxygen deprivation from running," Morty replied knowingly. "Too much blood is used by the muscles that there's not enough for the brain." 

"Then you ought to be the smartest man around, Morty." 

He shot a glance at his partner. "Ha, ha. But I digress. It's mass hypnosis or some sort of government cover-up, yaknow? I keep tellin' ya those TV shows are real. They put it out as fiction to throw us off the track." 

"So what you're sayin' is you believe in a bunch of people behind the scenes pulling the strings of the government, but you don't believe in magical creatures?" 

"Nah... Never in a million..." 

Just then, a large shadow passed over the cab. The shadow of a man-shaped object with huge bat-like wings. 

"Well, I suppose they could be aliens..." Morty said. 

***** 

Goliath circled around again as the truck entered the main street. He signaled to Brooklyn and Broadway to fall back a bit and for Lexington and Angela to take point. "Xanatos was right", he said to himself. "It is good to get away from the castle and feel the air on my wings." He waved to the other four and had them fall back into formation behind him. 

They had just crossed the Williamsburg Bridge when the complaints began. 

"I don't know, Broadway. This whole 'patrol' feels like busy work," Brooklyn began. "A 'get the gargoyles out of the castle' type of thing." 

"What? Do you think he's got some type of plot he's hatching?" 

"This is Xanatos we're talking about. Of course he has some sort of plot." 

Over to his right, Lexington overheard their conversation and winked at Broadway. "Hey, Davy! What are we going to do tonight?" 

"The same thing we do every night, Fox," Broadway replied, lowering his voice, "try to take over the world!" 

Lex, Broadway and Angela broke up in laughter while Brooklyn just looked at them. Goliath was beginning to wonder if discovering television was a good thing after all. 

"Quiet," Goliath commanded. "Xanatos is showing us his good faith by the destruction of this robot. Let's focus on the task at hand." 

"Yes, sir," they all responded. 

But the joking continued. Goliath counted ten before he fixed his charges in a steely glare. "I said attend to your duties. Lexington, Drop back! Angela, fly his wing. Keep your eyes on that truck and no more talk!" 

***** 

"Are you ready, sis?" Jackal yelled over the roar of the traffic. 

"Ready, willing, and able!" She thumped her creaking arm and gave a thumbs up. 

"Let's get to it!" He extended his prosthetic eye around the span of the bridge and then slid the rest of himself into position behind a support beam. "Here it comes!" He retracted his eye and prepared to vault to the truck. Reaching behind him, he pulled out a grenade and lobbed it into the traffic. 

The subsequent explosion caused the traffic behind the truck to go flying everywhere, drawing the attention of its flying escorts. 

"Angela!" Goliath roared. "Lexington! Fly over the bridge and meet it on the other side! Brooklyn, Broadway, follow me in!" 

***** 

"Yeeehah! E-ticket ride, bro!" Hyena screamed as she jumped onto the passenger's riding board and put her fist through the door. 

"Told you, sis! Fun and profit! Aren't you glad you came along for the ride?" Jackal vaulted onto the driver's side. "What do you think, sis? Over the bridge, off the lamppost, nothing but net?" 

They both reached in and threw Morty and Mike high into the air, and reveled in the screams before climbing in. 

***** Broadway waved over to Angela. "You take that one, I've got this one." 

"Check." 

Broadway pulled his wings in tight to build up his speed, then grabbed the definitely non-aerodynamic driver. "Hi," he said to Morty. "Thank you for flying Broadway Airlines. Please watch the 'Fasten Seatbelts' sign and don't forget to return your trays to their upright position." Morty took one look at his rescuer and fainted dead away. 

Mike had a completely different reaction to his rescuer. "Angela, is it? Y'know, Angie, if you ain't busy some time, I know this great little bistrooooOOOH!" The expression on Mike's face rapidly changed from amorous to nauseous as Angela raced around the nearby trees before alighting on a footbridge. 

"Sorry. I've already got a boyfriend." She turned, and with a sideways   
glance over her shoulder said, "and don't call me 'Angie.'" 

***** 

"Don't look now, bro, but we got hitchhikers!" 

Jackal swiveled the side mirror up and out. Reflected in its surface, gliding along at a good clip, were the remaining three Gargoyles. He looked over at his sister, who was frantically trying to get the laser removed from it's sheath in her arm. "Scenic route?" 

She grinned; not altogether a pleasant sight. "Scenic route!" 

He jerked the wheel to the left, swerving through traffic and knocking Hyena against the door. "Stop playing with that, sis," Jackal hissed, "and get in the back. See if there's anything there to help us out." 

Ripping through the metal with her claws, Hyena climbed into the rear of the truck and started opening crates. "Flashlight, nope. Uzi, nope. And what's behind the curtain?" she said as she pulled the large tarp off it's hidden contents. "Helllloooo, nurse!" 

Jackal was swerving in and out of traffic and buildings, but the gargoyles were still on his tail. "Whatcha got, sis?" 

"You'll never believe who's along for the ride! Coyote, and he's got a whole new look! Gee, you're awfully quiet tonight..." There was the sound of a thump and a bump. "Oh, no juice. Oh, my poor baby..." Hyena cooed to the machinery. "Let's see if we can't make some sparks..." 

"Hyena! Quit trying to to make out with that tin plated Romeo and get up here!" Jackal swerved barely in time to avoid a city bus. "Well, one-way streets are a stupid concept anyway...." he muttered. 

There was an ominous metalic whirring in the back of the truck. "What was that?!" He swerved again, giving several innocent cars parked on the street a new "compact" look. 

"N-nothing," she stuttered as the truck took a corner on two wheels. There was a loud thud and a thump and Hyena cursed loudly. "Watch it will you? I just had my hair done!" She poked her head out into the cab. "Coyote was just stretching a bit. It's kinda cramped back here." 

***** 

Broadway was hard pressed to keep up with the antics of the driver. "Who's driving that thing? Mel Gibson?"   
  
"Move in!" commanded Goliath. Wings folded back tight against their bodies, they hurled themselves at the truck. 

Sheet metal groaned as Brooklyn impacted with the cab of the truck. "Oh, that's going to leave a bruise." He peered into the window. "Why am I not surprised?" He raised his fist and plunged it through the driver side window, and grabbed for the steering wheel. The truck lurched as a startled Jackal fought for control. 

"Flying freak! Let go!" He snuck a quick glance at Hyena who was having problems of her own. She was slapping at the firing control mechanism on her laser arm and ducking as Goliath attempted to haul her out of the truck. The Coyote robot groaned and there was an ominous lurch from the back of the van. 

Jackal jerked the steering wheel, sending the vehicle into a parking lot full of Mercedes and BMW's. "Insurance agents are gonna be in therapy for weeks," he cackled happily. He dove under Brooklyn's embrace and tumbled out onto the pavement. Hyena used the open door as an escape hatch, tumbling out behind her brother. The trio of gargoyles circled.... 

***** 

Goliath eyed their opponents warily. "Be prepared for anythi..." he started to caution, as Broadway and Angela rejoined the fray. He cut himself off as the rear of the truck burst open, revealing its sole cargo - the Coyote robot - activated. 

"Scatter!" The robot was momentarily still as it took in its three targets. Raising the large weapon in its sidearm, it started firing away. 

"Lasers," Lexington moaned, "why is it always lasers?" He wrenched the side view mirror off the nearest BMW and attempted to deflect the high energy beams back toward the robot as he dove underneath a Camry. The car was scored neatly down the middle, but the beam caught the corner of Lexington's mirror and bounced back at the robot striking a glancing blow. It was enough to distract the creature long enough for Goliath to launch a flying tackle and send it crashing towards a brand new Mercedes, crushing the German car badly. The robot locked Goliath in a lethal embrace, hugging the gargoyle against his chest as he reclined against the demolished car. Goliath struggled mightily and then slumped as the robot squeezed the air from his lungs. 

Angela saw her father's futile attemps to free himself and dove into the fray, heedless of her own safety.   


***** 

The lights were low and the candles flickering served to enhance the romantic mood. Patrons had fought for reservations for months in advance to earn the right to dine at The Blackstock, the hottest of the hot new restaurants. Every one who was anyone was seen there, including one of the city's district attorneys. 

"Your soup." The waiter placed the bowls of tomato bisque in front of the diners and withdrew discreetly. 

"I'm telling you, Brendan. This city is getting even stranger than its normal strangeness. I'm glad that we finally have a nice, relaxing evening." 

A blonde man with a thin 'Boston Blackie' mustache approached the table. "Excuse me," he said. "You are Margot Yale, are you not?" 

"Why, yes," she responded, surprised at the unexpected attention. 

"I saw you on Nightwatch the other evening. I was impressed by your sentiments regarding the gargoyle menace." He reached into his pocket. "May I have your autograph?" he said, pulling out an ornate pen and notepad. 

Margot smiled and gave a sideways glance at her husband, who opened his mouth in surprise and quickly shut it again. "And who do I make this out to?" 

"Please, make it out to Jon..." The blonde man didn't get the rest out as the maitre' de yelled out from his podium. "Run for your lives!" 

Everyone looked at each other for a moment. But only for a moment, as the wall exploded with a fury, revealing a gigantic robot grappling with several gargoyles. 

"MARGOT! DUCK!!!" Brendan pulled Margot down behind the table as the Coyote backhanded one of the gargoyles into them. The robot drew a bead on the downed gargoyle. Another one, still gripping his back, began to dig into the metal of the robot, hoping to reach its head. 

The screams of the injured patrons were drowned out by the roar of the gargoyles' battle cries. 

***** 

Coyote forgot about Broadway as he attempted to reach around to the nuisance on it's back. Not being able to reach the offending gargoyle with its arms, it paused, then rammed itself backwards, knocking the rust-colored gargoyle into the wall, stunning it. Before he could finish turning the rust colored gargoyle into a rust colored stain, a furious Broadway broadsided the robot sending it flying through a plate glass window and into a heap on the sidewalk. 

Taking advantage of its prone position, Goliath grabbed one of the nearby lampposts that had been sheared off by the conflict, and speared the robot to the ground. The electricity of the lamppost sparked through the robot. Brooklyn looked at the robot twitching. "I don't like the looks of this..." 

The robot began to twitch and gyrate like a bug pinned in a giant's collection. "Systems failure. Unrecoverable," it said, its voice much more tinny than usual. 

All three gargoyles dove for cover behind nearby cars as the robot erupted into a fireblossom. Its head rocketed from its body, arcing away from the explosion like a cannonball. 

"Where's Hyena and Jackal?" Broadway wondered. The sounds of sirens in the background were getting closer and closer. 

"No time!" Goliath commanded. "We've got to get out of here!" The gargoyles bounded out into the night, seeking the safety of the roof tops as the patrons of the restaurant began to gather around. 

"My Beamer!" one exclaimed, picking up a chunk of rock. "You wrecked my Beamer!" His frustration unleashed as he threw the rock, hitting Broadway square between the wings. Other patrons, not quote as bold, hurled insults at the escaping gargoyles. 

"I think that's our cue to book, Sis! This party's getting a little too wild!" Jackal yelled. 

Hyena peered out from behind a Cadillac El Dorado and gestured at the gathering crowd. "What about them?" 

"No one's looking for us, stupe! It's the gargoyles they're after." He gestured towards the Xanatos delivery truck. "This heap still drives! Let's move it!" 

"Just a second!" She quickly snagged something out of the air and began to run. "Gotcha!" she cried triumphantly as she ran for the van. 

The police, followed by the NYFD pumper trucks and the news crews finally appeared. Quickly setting up the camera and lights, the news team caught the gargoyles on tape before they could glide off into the night. 

"GET THIS AREA CORDONED OFF NOW!!!" the lieutenant yelled into the megaphone. "I WANT EVERY AVAILABLE UNIT HERE, PRONTO! MOVE IT, PEOPLE! THIS IS NOT AN EASTER EGG HUNT!" He glanced up as the officers started moving people back behind the perimeter. He signaled to the paramedics. "Over here. We have injured civilians in the restaurant." He waved to two nearby officers in riot gear. "Jasper! Santiago! Over here! I want to two to escort the paramedics in." The young brunette and her mustachioed partner adjusted their helmets and fell in around the paramedics. 

Jasper stumbled among the debris. She quickly righted herself, relieved one of the paramedics of their equipment cases, and shoved him towards the back door of the restaurant.   
  
Nearby, Nicole St. John looked at her cameraman. "Do we have go for a live feed?" He listened to his headset. "We have go in five..., four..." He silently counted down the time before signaling to St. John to start. 

"This is Nicole St. John bringing you a WVRN exclusive report. The mysterious 'gargoyles' have yet struck again, creating a scene of devastation and destruction in their path..." 

***** 

"I'm telling you, Matt," Elisa was saying to her partner as they walked out to her car. "I feel like someone is trying to set up the guys." 

"Detective Bluestone?" a voice called out from the nearby car. "Are you Detective Matt Bluestone?" 

Both Bluestone and Maza checked to make sure their service revolvers were handy. With the weirdness, you never could be too careful. "Yes. May I help you?" 

A tall, dusky-skinned man stepped out of a broken-down wreck of a car. "Jerry Pearson, sir. From the Sentinel. I wanted to congratulate you on your promotion to the head of the 'Gargoyle Task Force,' and to see if I could get a couple of words from you." A flash of excitement and a boyish grin shone on his dark-skinned face before a more professional look replaced it. 

Both officers let their guard down. "A couple of words, eh?" Matt said. "How about 'No Comment'?" 

"Sir," the persistant reporter continued, "there seems to be a lot of anti-gargoyle sentiment around the city. Everything from graffiti and signs to this 'Quarrymen' group. Yet no evidence appears to exist to implicate the gargoyles in any of the alleged crimes. Any comment on that?" 

"Kid," Bluestone said as both he and Elisa climbed into her car, "if I find anything out, you'll be the second to know..." 

The radio began to issue their call sign as soon as Elisa turned the Fairlane's key and flipped on the police scanner. "Delta 5, Delta 5 do you copy?" 

"We're five feet from the precinct. What could possibly be so important?" Matt wondered as he grabbed the microphone. 

"Delta 5, copy." 

"GTF business, detective. Respond to the disturbance at The Blackstock. Broadway and West 87th. Riot Squad scrambled. Code Three." 

"Roger that. Delta 5 responding." He hung the microphone up and made a grab for his seatbelt as Elisa careened around a corner and punched her siren in one smooth gesture. The expression on her face was unreadable. That meant one of two things. She was either really worried or really, really mad. Actually in this case he considered it was probably a combination of the two. "I thought you said..." 

It was only then that Matt realized they had aquired a passenger. Jerry Pearson peered up out of the back seat. "How did you get there?" He tried to shush his partner but she missed the cue.   
  
Her eyes never left the road as she jerked the Fairlane around a slow moving taxi. "He promised me. He said they'd be careful!" A look of comprehension stole over her face. She cursed under her breath as she appreciated the verbal trick. "He said they'd be careful, not that they'd stay in...." 

"Easy Elisa! I'm sure your parents will be fine. Even without the shield, your father's still a cop." Matt grabbed for the dashboard as they ran a red light. "It won't do anybody a bit of good if we end up taking a detour to Manhattan General!" 

A look of total non-comprehension crossed Elisa's face. "What are you talking about?" She finally spotted a perplexed Jerry Pearson in the rear view mirror. And realized how close she had come to giving away her secret. _Cop's luck, Maza,_ she thought to herself. "Yeah, well... I told him that he should stay close to home. No point in him getting shot after he hung up his shield. Is there?" She swung around another corner. "And just what are you doing in the backseat of my car?" 

"Saving the price of admission to Disneyworld... Watch out!" Elisa swerved neatly around a Subaru that failed to yield to her lights and siren. Jerry took a deep breath and started again. "I figured there was no better way to get a scoop than tag along." He pulled out his tape recorder. "So, Detective Bluestone. What is the main mission of the Gargoyle Task Force?" 

Matt shot a look at Elisa. She shrugged her shoulders. They needed a friendly voice in the press and Pearson's had been the most honest reporting of the incidents she'd seen to date. "Answer a question first, Mr. Pearson," Elisa challenged. "What do you hope to get out of all of this?" If he answered "a Pulitzer," Elisa was going to dump him out of the car herself. With or without Matt's help. 

Despite the swaying of the fast moving car, Pearson righted himself as fully as he could and answered. "The truth, Detective Maza. It may not be what the public wants, but it's what they need." 

Her shoulders seemed to relax and Jerry took that as permission to continue the interview. "So how about it, Detective Bluestone?" 

"We're here to calm the fears of the city, Mr Pearson." Matt launched into a speech that he had practiced in front of his bathroom mirror. It had sounded pretty weak at 10:00 a.m. It still sounded hokey to him twelve hours later, but it was the only one he had. "We're still learning about what and who they are, but from what we've been able to gather so far gargoyles are an incredibly old species that has learned to hide itself to escape human prejudice. We've also learned once they adopt a protectorate they are incredibly dedicated to preserving the peace and watching over the inhabitants, despite the risk to their own safety." 

"It sounds like you've had experience with their peacekeeping efforts before," Pearson commented, keeping his voice neutral. 

"This is off the record." Matt waited until he heard the click of the tape recorder. "The gargoyles have lent a hand to the police department in the past. They don't want credit and the department has yet to acknowledge their...cooperation." 

"So what you're really saying, Detective, is that the brass doesn't know?" 

Matt traded a glance with Elisa. "Yeah, something like that." 

Pearson looked thoughtful for a moment. "And you'd like to keep it that way?" 

"For the time being." Matt replied. Elisa kept silent, her eyes on the road as she dodged slower-moving traffic. He wondered what else she wanted him to reveal. Probably not much. "I think we'd probably leave it at that for now." 

"Okay," Jerry replied. "But if you ever want to give an exclusive, you know who to call. And please, the name is Jerry." 

"Okay, then." Matt paused and turned to look at their passenger. "I'm Matt and this is Elisa. And if you do a good job, you'll get that exclusive." Matt was saved from making further comment by the glow of the emergency lighting. "Slow down, we're almost there," he cautioned Elisa. She automatically decelerated. Strobes of red, blue and white cut through the night sky. "There's the command post. Drop me there. I'll meet up with you later." 

Elisa shot him a quick look, momentarily dropping her facade of professionalism. He had an overwhelming urge to squeeze her hand to let her know it was going to be all right. But the watchful eyes of Jerry Pearson continued to record their actions. "Don't forget it's your night to buy breakfast. Though after putting up with your driving again, there'll be no promises on keeping it down." 

"Yeah, yeah," she rallied gamely. "Wouldn't miss it for the world." Elisa slowed as she approached the phalanx of riot gear clad officers. Matt waved his Task Force I.D. and a senior sargent pointed him toward a cluster of uniformed and plain clothed men and women. Elisa parked the Fairlane as far away from the other squad cars as she could, abandoning Matt and Pearson to find her own answers. 

***** 

"This is CN24, Cable News around the clock. We will have more of this exclusive coverage from New York station WVRN about the latest gargoyle attacks as it becomes available." 

Dominique Destine stabbed the control on the nearby remote, muting the TV. She flung her brioche at the wall and fumed as marmalade stuck briefly to the wall, then slid slowly towards the lush carpeting. She fumed. If Goliath hadn't smashed the Praying Gargoyle, the clan wouldn't be having these problems now. She thought about just leaving Goliath to be hoist by his own petard, but a glance at the television screen changed her mind. She fumbled for the remote in numb horror as she stabbed the sound back to life. On screen was her precious Angela. Numbly, she sank back into her chair. 

Lexington crawled an alley wall attempting to escape. Angela waited on a ledge holding out her hand to him. The mob surrounded them and the glare of the television camera lights threatend to blind them. She stretched her hand a bit further and as Lex reached to take hold, a large chunk of concrete caught him square on the shoulder. He lost his grip and fell toward the angry crowd of humans. 

Angela dove, snatching the at the smaller gargoyle's belt with one hand and driving her talons in to the wall, twisting her shoulder painfully in the process. Her face contorted in agony as she heaved Lexington upward away fromcertain death. The pair quickly scaled the wall and glided away. 

Demona reached a shaky hand towards the telephone. She tore her eyes away from the televison long enough to punch the Operator call button. "Oui, Mme. Destine?" a voice promptly purred. 

"J'ai besoin d'un vol immediat a destination de New York Cite, tout desuite." 

"Oui, Mme. Destine." She killed the connection and started to toss her essentials in a suitcase. "Goliath can kill himself and the others if he wishes," she said to the empty air, "but I will not let him kill my daughter." 

***** 

"What a rush!" The nondescript van pulled into the darkened garage; it's two occupants hyped up on the excitement. "They'll be talking about that for weeks!" The pair slapped hands in a high-five. 

"Which is precisely what we didn't want." The icy-cold voice cut through the psychotic siblings, chilling them to the bone. Jackal turned around, where he spied the gaunt, black garbed man standing backlit in the doorway. 

"Dave!" Jackal exclaimed, "don't do that! You wanna give me a heart-attack?" 

Hyena elbowed him in the ribs, whispering "Not gonna happen. Gotta have a heart first..." Both snickered like schoolchildren. 

The thin man's eyes narrowed, becoming as sharp as razor blades -- as sharp as his voice. "I don't see the humor in the situation. You've drawn the gargoyles' attention, alerted the police that you're back in town, and made the network news! This was supposed to be a quiet operation." 

Hyena slid next to him. "C'mon, Davey. If you wanted quiet, you wouldn't have hired us!" 

There was a moment of silence as if he was deciding what to do with the siblings. He finally just said, "Quite. Now, do you have the merchandise?" 

Jackal reached behind the driver's seat and pulled out a rack of CD's. Handing them over, he said "All of the information regarding the Coyote robot program, fresh off the griddle. And here's a bonus..." He tossed over something to Garlon. Catching it, he looked at it. "The Coyote prototype itself." He glanced at it again. "Well, a piece of it anyway." 

Garlon's eyes seemed to sparkle and a tight-lipped grin spread across his face. "Excellent. You have done well. My employer is sure to be pleased." He turned towards the door. "Now, if you two would be so kind as to follow me, we'll complete the other half of our transaction." 

Hyena was about to put her arm around him, but after a sharp look, thought better about it. "Davey, boy," she said, a slight shiver in her voice, "pay me enough money and I'll follow you anywhere...." 

***** 

"Jalapena!" Elisa looked at the aftermath of the restaurant disaster and tried to reconstruct the events. It defied her imagination, and considering some of the things she'd seen that said a lot. The restaurant was a total loss. Glass both from a shattered plate glass window and several table tops littered the floor. Keeping it company were the remains of several very expensive meals and a large smear of what looked like drying blood. She walked over to the stain and stuck her finger in it. Tomato soup. She let out a shakey sigh of relief. Her nerves must really be on edge to make such a rookie error. 

Victims of the incident were lined up against the back wall being attended to by the paramedics. She approached them carefully looking for a reliable witness. The unmistakabley nasal whine of the Assistant District Attorney assaulted Elisa from the far end of the room. "Just great," she muttered. "Why is it when ever it hits the fan that woman has to be at ground zero?" 

Turning her back, she waved her badge at the first civilian who looked capable of coherent speech and began to gather facts.   


***** 

Jerry Pearson wondered if someone wasn't spiking the city's water supply. He watched Detective Maza and the evidence technicians gather evidence for a while and when they had taken their last photo and departed he had slipped through the police 'crime scene' tape and began to note the destruction around him. He had been standing close enough to the ambulances to hear the chef, the last of the victims, as he was sedated and prepared to be taken away for a night of hospital   
observation. He had flamboyantly described to anyone who would listen how gargoyles had destroyed his beautiful restaurant while battling a giant robot. There didn't seem to be any evidence of a robot now, just a lot of metal fragments and.... He paused. Metal fragments? 

He carefully looked both ways and knelt to the sidewalk, picking up a chunk of metal and examining it under the faded glow of the streetlight. 

This wasn't car metal. 

"Hey you! What do you think you're doing!" A burly cop appeared out of no where. "Authorized personnel only! This is a crime scene!" 

Pearson carefully pocketed the fragment and raised his hands. "Jerry Pearson, from the Sentinel. I thought the investigative team was done so I..." 

"You thought wrong. Move along or I'll run you in for tampering with evidence." 

Jerry sized the cop up. He looked like he had an Excedrine headache and a low I.Q. Time to go. "What ever you say officer. Goodnight." 

He tried to look innocent as he ducked under the tape and wandered toward the command post. It looked like Matt Bluestone was getting ready to make a statement. He nudged past a camera crew and stuck his own tape recorder out among the others. 

Matt winced under the bright lights trying to get his eyes to adjust. He resisted an urge to pull out his sunglasses, and then remembered he didn't have any. Maybe he should start carrying them. "Ladies and gentlemen, this is going to be brief. And since this is now part of an ongoing investigation, there will be no questions. At approximately 9:35 p.m. there was an incident at The Blackstock. Eyewitness reports state that some sort of prototype device was..." Matt searched for a properly neutral word. "engaged in a struggle with several gargoyles. The damage to the restaurant was fallout from alleged attempts by said gargoyles to subdue the prototype which had apparently gone out of control." He paused and wondered who in the Illuminati he'd have to curry favor with to get himself transfered off of this detail. "It is not known to whom the prototype device belonged or how it found its way to midtown Manhattan." Matt paused and took a deep breath. "That's it. Thank you and good night." He was off the podium before the reporters had a chance to digest what he had said. 

Jerry stuck his tape recorder back in his pocket, reminding him of the fragment in his pocket. It was too thick to be from any of the exploding cars, and yet too new to be from any of the buildings around here. There was a mystery here. Maybe this metal piece was part of the answer. Maybe a quick trip to NYU's metallurgy department might be in order. He started to head for his car before remembering that it was still back at the precinct. 

*****    
Nicole St. John took one more look at her notes before the camera man threw her the ten second warning. As he counted down she schooled her features into an appropriately serious demeanor and took a calming breath just as they'd taught her to do in college. 

"In five, four, three..." he switched to hand signals... two fingers and then he pointed at her. The light on the camera turned green. 

"Nicole St. John reporting live from the scene of the latest gargoyle-related tragedy. We have just had a brief statement from the head of the Gargoyle Task Force, Detective Matthew Bluestone." She looked away from the camera toward the director, he shook his head and pointed to his watch. "He says that due to the fact of the ongoing investigation, no detailed information can be revealed at this time." She allowed the corners of her mouth to turn down slightly to indicate her skeptisism at the detective's statement. "But he did say that at approximately 9:35 p.m., another gargoyle attack occured at The Blackstock. The details are sketchy but the police are indicating that some mechanical device of unknown origin was somehow involved in the attack on the restaurant." She glanced back at the director who was now slicing his hand across his throat. "Now back to you, Travis."   
  
"Thank you, Nicole, for that on-the-scene report." He turned away from his moniter and looked toward his audience. He glanced at his in studio director who looked like she was ready to have kittens. "That's all we have time for on tonight's edition of 'Nightwatch.' Our viewers are reminded that our schedule interview with noted European businessman, multimillionaire and recent New York resident Nicholas Maddox will be shown next week. For WVRN and Nightwatch, this has been Travis Marshall. Goodnight." 

"And we're clear!" An assistant took Nichole's microphone and scurried away. 

Back at the crime scene, Jerry Pearson looked at all of the hooplah with a chuckle. After his impromptu talk with Detective Bluestone, her broadcast rang hollow. "Laying it on a little thick for the rubes, aren't you, Nikki?" 

Nicole St. John squinted until she made out the profile of her rival. "I'll get an Emmy before you do, Pearson." 

"Of course you will, Nikki." Jerry replied good naturedly. "I'm a newspaper reporter. We don't _get_ Emmys." He looked around momentarily, then looked back at Nicole. "Now, if you excuse me, I've got to find a ride back to the police station. I was so busy doing my job that I forgot my car there." 

"Jerry, Jerry, Jerry," she replied graciously. "All you have to do is ask. I'd be glad to give you a lift back to the police station. I happen to be headed near there anyway." She took his arm, leading him towards the news van. "Jerry, my dear, I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship." 

***** 

"Konichiwa! This is Vinnie." The young security guard leaned back in his chair, looking at the construction going on around him. Who knew that a banana cream pie would lead to such a well-paying job and an opportunity to travel? Sure, learning Japanese wasn't easy, but he had plenty of time to do it on this job. "No, sir," he said, returning attention to the call. "I haven't seen Mr. Takahashi since last night. He seems to want to do a lot of the work at night. I'll tell him you called, though." 

As he hung up the phone, Vinnie turned to the other security guard. "Y'ever meet Mr. Burnett, Tachi? Kinda reminds me of that guy on Star Trek. Couldn't ya just see him with pointed ears?" Chuckling, he returned his attention to the security cameras, just missing the flight of gargoyles passing by. 

***** 

The mirror grew foggy again, and then returned to its normal reflective status. "These are dire portents indeed," Titania murmured to herself. "Dire indeed." She looked at Ophelia. "Child, maybe you ought to go down and join your brethren in their weapons practice." 

Ophelia looked back at her, quizzically. "But I need to finish the princess' hair, first." 

Walking to the window, Titania seemed oblivious to the gargoyle's concerns.   
Katharine laid her hand on Ophelia's shoulder. "'Tis all right, Ophelia. Go ahead." 

Titania looked out at the practicing gargoyle clan. "I have not always been there for my daughter," she said, more to the air than to the princess. "There is trouble on the horizon and I do not know what to do about it." 

Katharine joined her at the window. "Sometimes the best thing a parent can do is to let her children take care of themselves." She turned to look at the fay queen. "Sometimes, all we can do is pray that they have the strength to make it through." 

"I fear," Titania said, her voice a low whisper, "that even that may not be enough." 

**__**

THE END 

   [1]: http://tgs.gargoyles-fans.org/garg/season1/thejourney.html



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